IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


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■^  Bi2  B2.2 
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1.4 


Fhotogiai^c 

Sdmces 

Corporalion 


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23  WIST  MAM  STtt    - 

WiBSTIR,N.Y.  14Sm 

<7t«)«72-4S03 


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0 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  l\/licroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  minroreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notes  tachniquas  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


□   Colourad  covara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I   Covara  damagad/ 


D 


D 


D 


D 


0 


Couvartura  andommag^a 

Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raataurte  at/ou  paiiiculta 


□    Covar  title  missing/ 
La 


titra  da  couvarture  manque 


I      I   Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gtographiquas  en  couleur 

Coloured  inic  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  blacic)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  qun  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I   Coloured  plates  and/or  iiiustrationa/ 


Planches  et/ou  iiiustrationa  en  couleur 


Dl 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
RallA  avac  d'autrea  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  se<'r6e  peut  cauaar  da  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
diatortion  la  long  de  la  marge  IhtArieure 

Blank  leavea  added  during  reatoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  poaaibia,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  aa  peut  que  certaines  pagea  blanchaa  aJoutAas 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  taxte. 
maia,  ioraqua  cela  Atait  poaaibia,  caa  pagea  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmAas. 


The 
to  til 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
da  cat  exemplaire  qui  sont  peui-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographiqua,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mtthoda  normala  de  f ilmaga 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 

n 

D 
0 
O 
D 
O 
O 


Coloured  pagea/ 
Pagea  da  couiisur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag6es 

Pages  reatorad  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  reatauriaa  at/ou  peiiicuitea 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dAcolortes,  tachatAes  ou  piquAes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachias 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualit^  InAgaia  de  I'impreaaion 

Incliidaa  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  material  aupplimantaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  diaponibia 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissuea,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pagea  totalament  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  4t4  filmtes  h  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtanir  la  mailleure  image  possible. 


Tno 
post 
oft^ 
filmi 


Origl 
bAgli 
the  I 
sion, 
othe 
first 
sion, 
or  ill 


Thei 
shall 
TINl 
whic 

Mapi 
diffa 
antir 
begii 
right 
requ 
metl 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairas  suppldmantaires; 


Various  paginyi. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  chackad  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  da  reduction  indiquA  ci-da«aous. 

10X  KX  18X  22X 


2BX 


30X 


^ 

3 

12X 


lex 


aox 


24X 


28X 


32X 


re 

J«tails 
M  du 
modifier 
er  une 
Filmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  haa  been  reproduced  thanica 
to  the  generoaity  of: 

.     IMorisMt  Library 
University  of  Ottmra 


Tna  imagea  appearing  here  are  the  beat  quality 
poaalble  conaidering  tho  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  icaeping  with  the 
filming  contract  apecif icationa. 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnAroaitA  de: 

Biblioth4qu«  MoritMt 
UnivtrtitA  d'Ottawa 


Lea  imagea  suivantea  ont  MA  reproduitea  avec  le 
plua  grand  aoin,  compta  tenu  de  la  con;^ition  at 
de  la  nattetA  de  rexemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  lea  conditiona  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


ies 


Original  copiea  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  lent  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea> 
aion,  or  tha  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copiea  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
aion.  and  ending  on  the  laat  page  with  a  printed 
or  illuatrated  impreaaion. 


Lea  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eat  imprimte  aont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  aoit  par  la 
darniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresaion  ou  d'illustration,  aoit  par  le  second 
plat,  aelon  le  cas.  Toua  lea  autres  exempiairea 
originaux  aont  filmAa  en  commenpant  par  la 
pramlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illuatration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  laat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahall  contain  the  aymboi  — »>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appliea. 


Un  dea  aymbolaa  auivanta  cpparattra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
caa:  le  aymboie  — ►  aignifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  y  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charta,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diegrama  illuatrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartas,  planchea,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmAa  A  dea  taux  de  rAduction  diff ArentL. 
Loraque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  aeui  ciichA,  il  eat  filmA  A  partir 
da  I'angle  aupArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bea,  en  prenent  le  nombre 
d'imagea  nAcessaire.  Las  diagramrr«s  auivanta 
illuatrent  la  mAthode. 


f  errata 
dto 

It 

le  pelure, 

pon  A 


n 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

LIVES 


ov 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMB^ 


WW, 


{ 


or  b: 


19197* 


THE  LIFE 


OV 


ST.  FEANCES  OP  EOME, 

LADY  G£ORGIANA  FULLERTON , 

or  BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NABNI,  OF  DOHIMICA  OF  PABADIMX 
AND  OF  AMNE  DE  MONTMOBENCTt 

WITS 

^n  Jntrobudoxs  (I^mtxq 

ON  THE  MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS^ 
Bt  J.  M.  OAPE^  Esq. 


NE^  TORE: 

D.  k  J.  BADUER  k  CO.,  81  BAHCLAT  STREET. 

BOSTON:  118  FBDBRAL  8TBBBT. 

waaraauh :  oor.  or  Nona  dawi  and  n.  waAsaa  zatier  aiai 


I  Aatkan  iMCfva  f  thcuuclTM  the  ritht  •#  MthoritinE  TrnwdatiiM  utUktt  Woik 


•.* 


t»^. 


r-' 


S,B,  Th€ proprietorship  ofthU  Series  is  sc-nred  in  all  countriu 
wken  tkt  Copjfright  it  proUcltd, 


I 

J 


The  authorities  on  whloh  th«  Hittory  of  St.  Frano«a  of  Rom* 
rests  are  ns  follows  : 

Her  life  by  Mnttiotti,  her  Confessor  for  ten  years.  Mattiottt 
enjoined  her,  as  a  matter  of  obedience,  to  relate  to  him  from  time 
to  time  hor  visions  in  the  minutest  detail.  Ho  was  a  timid  and 
suspicious  man,  and  for  twc  or  three  years  kept  a  doily  reoord  of 
all  she  told  him  ;  afterwards,  as  his  confidence  in  her  sanctity  and 
sanity  grew  comploto,  he  contented  himself  with  a  more  general 
account  of  her  ecstasies,  and  also  put  together  a  private  history  of 
her  life.  A^r  her  death,  he  wrote  a  regular  biography,  which  ia 
now  to  be  found  in  the  Bollandist  ooUection  (Venice,  1735,  toI.  i}.). 

Early  in  the  seventeenth  century,  Ursinus,  a  Jesuit,  wroto  a 
life,  which  was  highly  esteemed,  but  which  was  never  printed,  and, 
except  in  certain  fragments,  is  now  lost. 

In  1641,  Fuligato,  a  Jesuit,  wrote  the  second  life,  in  the  Bollan* 
dist  collection,  which  contains  particulars  of  events  that  hajqpened 
after  Mattiotti's  time. 

Other  well-written  lives  have  rinoe  appeared :  especially  *  recent 
one  by  the  Vicomte  de  Bussi^re,  in  which  will  be  found  various 
details  too  long  to  be  included  in  the  sketch  here  preeented  to  thf* 
English  rsader. 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTa 

In  presenting-  to  the  general  reader  a  newly-written  Life 
of  so  extraordinary  a  person  as  St.  Frances  of  Rome, 
together  with  the  biographical  sketches  contained  in 
the  present  volume,  it  may  be  useful  to  introduce  them 
with  a  few  brief  remarks  on  that  peculiar  feature  in  tae 
histories  of  many  Saints,  which  is  least  in  accordance 
with  the  popular  ideas  of  modern  times.  A  mere  trans- 
lation, or  repubhcation  of  a  foreign  or  ancient  book, 
does  not  necessarily  imply  any  degree  of  assent  to  the 
principles  involved  in  the  original  writer's  statements. 
The  new  version  or  edition  may  be  nothing  more  than 
a  work  of  antiquarian  or  literaiy  interest,  by  no  means 
professing  any  thing  more  than  a  belief  that  persons 
will  be  found  who  will,  from  some  motive  or  other,  be 
glad  to  read  it. 

Not  so,  however,  in  the  case  of  a  biography  which, 
though  not  pretending  to  present  the  results  of  fresh 
researches,  does  profess  to  give  an  account  new  in  shape, 
and  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  day  in  which  it  asks 
its  share  of  public  attention.  In  this  case  no  person 
can  honourably  write,  and  no  editor  can  honourably 
sanction,  any  statements  but  such  as  are  not  only  pes* 


Vlll 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


sible  and  probable,  but,  allowing"  for  the  degree  of  au- 
thenticity in  each  case  claimed,  on  the  whole  historically 
tnie.  No  honest  man,  who  absolutely  disbelieves  in  all 
documents  in  whuh  the  original  chronicler  has  mingled 
accounts  of  supernatiu-al  events  with  the  record  of  his 
own  personal  knowledge,  could  possibly  either  write  or 
edit  such  Lives  as  those  included  in  the  following  pages ; 
still  less  could  they  be  made  public  by  one  who  disbe- 
lieves in  the  reality  of  modem  miracles  altogether. 

In  presenting,  then,  the  present  and  other  similar 
volumes  to  the  ordinary  reader,  I  anticipate  some  such 
questions  as  these :  "  Do  you  really  put  these  stories 
into  tar  hands  as  history?  Are  these  marvellous  tales 
to  be  regarded  as  poetry,  romance,  superstitious  dream- 
ing, or  as  historical  realities  ?  If  you  profess  to  believe 
in  their  truth,  how  do  you  reconcile  their  character  with 
the  universal  aspect  of  human  life,  as  it  appears  to  vs 
and  to  our  friends  ?  And  finally,  if  you  claim  for  them 
the  assent  to  which  proved  facts  have  a  right  from  eveiy 
candid  mind,  to  what  extent  of  detail  do  you  profess  to 
believe  in  their  authenticity?"  To  these  and  similar 
questions  I  reply  by  the  following  observations : 

The  last  of  these  questions  maybe  answered  briefly. 
The  lives  of  Saints  and  cJher  remarkable  personages, 
which  are  here  and  elsewhere  laid  in  a  popular  fonn 
before  the  English  public,  are  not  all  equally  to  ts 
relied  on  as  undoubtedly  true  in  their  various  minute 
particulars.  They  stand  precisely  on  the  same  footing 
as  the  ordinary  events  of  purely  secular  history ;  and 
precisely  the  same  degree  of  assent  is  claimed  for  them 
that  the  common  reason  of  humanity  accords  to  the 
geneitd  chronicles  of  our  race.    No  man,  who  writes  or 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


ii 


edits  a  history  of  distant  events,  professes  to  have  pre- 
cisely the  same  amount  of  certainty  as  to  all  the  many 
details  which  he  records.  Of  some  his  certainty  is  all 
hut  ahsolute ;  of  others  he  can  say  that  he  considers 
them  highly  pi'ouable  ;  of  a  third  class  he  only  alleges 
that  they  are  vouched  for  by  respectable  though  not 
numerous  authorities.  Still,  he  groups  them  together 
in  one  complete  and  continuous  story,  and  gives  them 
to  the  world  as  history ;  nor  does  the  world  impute  to 
him  either  dishonesty,  ignorance,  credulity,  or  shallow- 
ness, because  in  every  single  event  he  does  not  specify 
the  exact  amount  of  evidence  on  which  his  statement 
rests. 

Jnst  such  is  the  measure  of  belief  to  be  conceded 
to  the  Life  of  St.  Frances,  and  other  biographies  or 
skct^/hes  of  a  similar  kind.  Some  portions,  and  those 
the  most  really  important  and  prominent,  are  well 
ascertained,  incontrovertible,  and  substantially  tnie. 
Others  again,  in  all  likelihood,  took  place  very  much, 
though  not  literally,  in  the  way  in  which  they  are  re- 
corded. Of  others,  they  were  possibly,  or  even  proba- 
bly, the  mere  colouring  of  the  writer,  or  were  originally 
adopted  on  uninvestigated  rumour.  They  are  all,  how- 
ever, consistent  with  known  facts,  and  the  laws  on 
which  humanity  is  governed  by  Divine  Providence; 
and  therefore,  as  they  may  be  true,  they  take  their 
p'.ace  in  that  vast  multitude  of  b'stories  which  all  can- 
did and  well-informed  persons  agree  in  accepting  as 
worthy  of  credit,  though  in  various  degrees. 

Supposing,  then,  that  miraculous  events  may  and 
do  occur  in  the  present  state  of  the  world's  histoiy,  it 
is  obvious  that  these  various  de^Tees  of  assent  are  com- 


X  ,  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 

manded  alike  by  the  supernatural  and  the  natural  events 
which  are  here  so  fi-eely  mingled  together.  Some  are 
undoubtedly  true,  others  are  probably  either  fictitious 
or  incorrectly  recorded.  The  substance  rests  on  the 
g-enuine  documents,  originally  written  by  eye-witnesses 
and  perfectly  competent  judges;  and  as  such,  the  whole 
stands  simply  as  a  result  of  the  gathering  together  of 
historical  testimony. 

Here,  however,  the  ordinary  English  reader  meets 
us  with  the  assertion,  that  the  supernatural  portions  of 
such  lives  are  simply  impossible.  He  assumes — for  I 
am  not  exaggerating  when  I  say  that  he  never  tries  to 
prove — that  these  marvellous  interniptions  of  the  laws 
of  nature  never  take  place.  Consequently,  in  his  judg- 
ment, it  is  purely  ridiculous  to  put  ^orth  such  stories 
as  history ;  and  writers  who  issue  them  are  guilty 
either  of  folly,  ignorance,  superstition,  or  an  unprin- 
cipled tampering  with  the  credulity  of  unenlightened 
minds.  Of  those  who  thus  meet  the  question  of  his- 
torical evidence  by  an  assumption  of  a  universal  ab- 
stract impossibility,  I  earnestly  beg  an  unprejudiced 
attention  to  the  following  considerations : 

If  it  be  once  admitted  that  there  is  a  God,  and  that 
the  soul  is  not  a  mere  portion  of  the  body,  the  ex- 
istence of  miracles  becomes  at  once  probable.  Apart 
from  the  records  of  experience,  we  should  in  fact  have 
expected  that  events  which  are  now  termed  miraculous 
would  have  been  perhaps  as  common  as  those  which 
are  regulated  by  what  we  call  the  laws  of  nature.  Let 
it  be  only  granted  that  the  visible  universe  is  not  the 
wJiole  univei-se,  and  that  in  reality  we  are  ever  in  a 
state  of  most  intimate  real  communion  with  Him  who 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS, 


XI 


is  its  Creator;  then,  I  say,  we  should  have  expected 
to  have  heen  as  hahituelly  conscious  of  our  intercourse 
with  that  great  Being*,  as  of  our  intercourse  with  one 
another.  The  true  marvel  is,  that  we  are  not  thus 
habitually  conscious  of  the  Divine  Presence,  and  that 
God  is  really  out  of  our  sight.  If  there  is  a  God,  who 
is  ever  around  us  and  within  us,  way  does  He  not  com- 
municate with  us  through  the  medium  of  our  senses,  as 
He  enables  us  to  communicate  with  one  another  ?  Our 
souls  hold  mutual  communion  through  the  intervention 
of  this  corporal  frame,  with  such  a  distinct  and  unde- 
niable  reality,  that  we  are  as  conscious  of  our  inter- 
course as  of  the  contact  of  a  material  substance  with 
our  material  bodies.  Wliy,  then, — since  it  is  so  infi- 
nitely more  important  to  us  to  hold  ceaseless  communi- 
cation with  our  Maker, — why  is  it  that  our  intercoiu^e 
with  Him  is  of  a  totally  different  nature  ?  Why  is  it 
that  the  material  creation  is  not  the  ordinary  instru- 
ment by  which  our  souls  converse  with  Him  ?  Let  any 
man  seriously  ponder  upon  this  awful  question,  and  he 
must  hasten  to  the  conclusion,  that  though  experience 
has  shown  us  that  the  world  of  matter  is  not  the  or- 
dinary channel  of  converse  between  God  and  man, 
there  yet  remains  an  overwhelming  probability  that 
some  such  intercourse  takes  place  occasionally  between 
the  soul  and  that  God  through  whose  power  alone  she 
continues  to  exist. 

In  other  words,  the  existence  of  mimcles  is  proba- 
ble rather  than  otherwise.  A  miracle  is  an  event  in 
which  the  laws  of  nature  are  interrupted  by  the  inter- 
vention of  Divine  agency,  usually  for  the  purpose  of 
brin{i^ng  the  soul  of  man  into  a  conscious  contact  with 


n 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


the  inhabitants  of  the  invisible  world.  With  more  or 
less  exactness  of  similitude,  a  miracle  establishes  be- 
tween God  and  man,  or  between  other  spiritual  beingn 
and  man,  that  same  kind  of  intercourse  which  exists  he- 
tween  diiferent  living  individuals  of  the  human  race. 
Such  a  conscious  intercouree  is  indeed  asserted  by  infidels 
as  well  as  by  atheists,  to  be,  if  not  impossible,  at  least  so 
utterly  improbable,  that  it  is  scarcely  within  the  power 
of  proof  to  make  it  credible  to  the  unbiassed  reason. 
Yet  surely  the  balance  of  probability  inclines  to  the 
very  opposite  side.  If  there  is  a  God,  and  our  souls 
are  in  communication  (of  some  kind)  with  Him,  surely, 
pnor  to  experience,  we  should  have  expected  to  be 
habitually  conscious  of  this  communion.  And  now 
that  we  see  that  we  are  not  at  any  rate  habitually  so, 
still  the  burden  of  proof  rests  with  those  who  allege 
that  such  conscious  intercourse  never  takes  place. 
A  part  from  all  proof  of  the  reaUty  of  any  one  processed 
miracle,  the  infidel  is  bound  to  show  whi/  all  miracles 
are  improbable  or  impossible  j  in  other  words,  why  man 
should  nevei'  be  conscious  of  the  presence  and  will  of 
"  his  ever-present  God. 

Protestants,  however,  and  even  weak  Catholics,  re- 
gard the  record  of  one  of  those  mysterious  hves,  in 
which  the  soul  of  a  man  or  woman  has  been  repeatedly 
brought  into  this  species  of  communion  with  invisible 
beings,  as  a  tale  which,  though  it  is  just  possible  that 
it  may  be  true,  is  yet,  on  the  face  of  it,  so  flagrant  a 
violation  of  the  laws  of  nature,  as  to  be  undeserving  of 
positive  hearty  belief.  They  confound  the  laws  of  phy- 
EJcal  nature  with  the  laws  of  universal  nature.  They 
S])eak  of  the  nature  of  this  material  eai-th,  as  if  it  waa 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


zm 


identical  with  the  nature  of  things.  And  this  con- 
hision  of  thought  it  is  to  which  I  would  especially  call 
attention.  Miracles  are  contraiy  to  the  ordinary  laws 
of  physical  nature,  and  therefore  are  so  far  improbable, 
but  they  are  in  the  strictest  conformity  with  the  nature 
3f  things,  and  therefore  in  themselves  are  probable. 
If  the  laws  of  natm*e  rule  God  as  they  control  man,  a 
miracle  is  almost  an  impossibility ;  but  if  God  rules 
the  laws  of  nature,  then  it  is  wonderful  that  something 
mii-aculous  does  not  befal  us  every  day  of  our  lives. 

Again,  it  is  in  a  high  degree  probable  that  miracu- 
lous events  will  generally,  so  to  say,  take  their  colour 
from  the  special  character  of  that  relation  which  may 
exist  between  God  and  man  at  the  time  when  they 
come  to  pass.  If,  in  the  inscrutable  counsels  of  viie 
Almighty,  man  is  placed,  during  different  eras  in  his 
history,  in  different  circumstances  towards  his  Creator 
and  Presei-ver,  it  would  seem  only  natural  that  the 
variations  in  those  circumstances  should  be  impressed 
upon  the  extraordinary  intercourse  between  God  and 
His  people.  Or,  to  use  the  common  Christian  term, 
each  dispensation  will  have  its  peculiar  supernatural 
asp(  ct,  as  well  as  its  peculiar  spiritual  and  invisible  re- 
lationship. If  man  was  originally  in  a  higher  and  more 
perfect  state  of  being  than  he  is  now,  it  is  probable  that 
his  communion  with  God  was  singularly,  if  not  totally, 
unlike  what  it  has  been  since  he  fell  fi-om  primeval 
blessedness.  If  after  his  fall,  two  temporary  states 
have  been  appointed  to  him  by  his  God,  then  the  mira- 
cles of  each  epoch  will  bear  their  own  special  correspond- 
ing characteristics.  And  lastly,  if  by  a  new  exercise  of 
regenerating  and  restoiing  power  it  has  pleased  the 


xW 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSilT. 


Invisible  One  to  rescue  His  creatures  from  the  conse- 
quences of  their  ancient  ruin,  then  agnin  we  may  ex- 
j)ect  to  recognise  the  liistory  of  that  redemption  in  the 
wliole  course  of  the  miraculous  intercourse  between  the 
Hedeemer  and  the  redeemed  until  the  end  of  time. 
The  supeniatural  elements  in  the  Paradisiacal,  the  Pa- 
triarchal, the  Mosaic,  and  the  Christian  states,  may  be 
expected  to  be  in  many  respects  distinct,  each  embody- 
ing* with  awful  and  glorious  power  the  invisible  rela- 
tions which  the  God  of  nature  and  of  g^ace  has  thought 
fit  to  assume  towards  His  creatures. 

And  such,  in  fact,  has  been  the  case.  Not  only  is 
the  ceaseless  existence  of  a  miraculous  intercourse  be- 
tween God  and  man  one  of  the  most  completely  proved 
of  all  historical  events,  but  the  miracles  of  each  dis- 
pensation are  found  in  a  wonderfiil  degree  to  correspond 
with  the  relationship  of  God  to  man  in  each  of  tlie  se- 
parate epochs.  The  same  superhuman  consistency  is 
found  to  pervade  all  the  works  of  God,  both  where 
nature  and  grace  ai*e  separate  from  one  another,  and 
where  the  common  laws  of  natm*e  ai'e  burst  through, 
and  the  material  universe  is  made  as  it  were  the  bond- 
slave of  the  imseen.  The  impiously  meant  assertions 
of  unbelief  arc  fulfilled  in  a  sense  which  unbelievers 
little  look  for  j  and  they  who  cry  out  in  their  hatred  of 
miracles,  that  all  things  are  governed  by  unchanging 
larVj  may  learn  that  in  tmth  unchanging  laws  do  rule 
over  all,  although  those  laws  have  a  range  and  a  uiuty 
in  the  essence  and  will  of  God,  of  which  moi-tal  intel- 
ligence never  dreamed.  The  natural  and  the  super- 
natural, the  visible  and  the  invisible,  the  ordinary  and 
tiie  miraculous,  the  rules  of  the  physical  creation  and 


MIIUCULOUS  LIFE  OP  THE  SAINTS. 


Xf 


the  interruptions  of  those  rules, — all  are  controlled  by 
one  law,  shaped  according-  to  pne  plan,  directed  by  onfl 
aim,  and  bound  to  one  another  by  indissoluble  ties, 
even  where  to  human  eyes  all  seem  lost  in  confusion 
and  thwarted  by  mutual  sti'ug'g'le. 

Of  what  we  should  now  call  the  miraculous,  or 
supernatural,  communion  between  God  and  man  in  Pa- 
radise, we  know  historically  but  little.    The  records  of 
revelation  being*  for  the  most  part  confined  to  the  state 
of  man  as  he  is,  and  his  actual  and  future  prospects, 
present  but  a  glimpse  of  the  conscious   communion 
which  was  permitted  to  the  first  of  our  race  in  their 
original  bliss.    It  is,  however,  believed  by  theologians, 
that  in  Paradise  what  we  should  riow  term  miracles  did 
not  exist ;  for  this  reason,  that  what  is  now  extraordi- 
nary was  then  ordinary.   God  conversed  with  man,  and 
man  held  communion  with  angels,  directly  and  habitu- 
ally ;  so  that  in  a  certain  sense  man  sa  '  God  and  the 
world  now  unseen.*    For  it  is  not  the  mere  possession 
of  a  body  ^  I'idi  binds  the  soul  rvith  the  chains  of  sense; 
it  is  the  corruption  and  sinfulness  of  our  present  fi-ames 
which  has  converted  them  into  a  barrier  betAveen  the 
spirit  within  and  the  invisible  universe.     As  Adam 
came  fofth.  all  pure  and  perfect  from  the  hands  of  his 
Creator,  a  soul  dwelling  in  a  body,  his  whole  being" 
ministered  fitly  to  the  purposes  of  his  creation,  and  with 
body  and  soul  together  he  conversed  with  his  God.    It 
was  not  till  the  physical  sense  became  his  instrument  of 
rebellion,  that  it  was  aishonoiu'ed  and  made  his  prison- 
house,  and  laid  under  a  curee  which  should  never  ba 


*  See  St  Thomas,  Summa,  pars  prima,  qn8est94.aTt  \,9, 


»V1 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAT. 


fully  removed  until  the  last  g^eat  day  of  the  resurrec- 
tion. 

Upon  the  fall  of  Adam,  a  nev^  state  was  intro- 
duced, which  lasted  about  two  thousand  five  hundred 
years.  During'  its  continuance,  the  supernatui-al  inter- 
course between  Almighty  God  and  His  degraded  crea- 
tures took  an  entirely  different  character.  What  had 
originally  been  continual,  and  as  it  were  natural,  be- 
came comparatively  rare  and  miraculous.  Henceforth 
there  seemed  to  be  no  God  among  men,  save  when  at 
times  the  usual  laws  of  the  earth  and  the  heavens  were 
suspended  and  God  spoke  in  accents  which  none  might 
refuse  to  hear.  Of  these  supei-natural  manifestations 
the  general  aspect  was  esspntially  typical  of  the  futm-e 
redemption  of  the  lost  race  by  a  Saviour.  That  promise 
'  of  delivei-ance  from  the  consequences  of  sin,  which  Al- 
mighty God  had  vouchsafed  to  the  first  sinners,  was 
repeated  in  a  vast  variety  of  miraculous  interventions. 
Though  there  may  have  been  many  exceptions  to  the 
ordinary  character  of  the  Patriarchal  miracles,  still,  on 
the  whole,  they  wear  a  typical  aspect  of  the  most  strik- 
ing prominence. 

The  first  miracle  recorded  after  the  fall  is  the  token 
gianted  to  Abel  that  his  sacrifice  was  accented.  A 
deluge  destroys  all  but  one  family,  who  are  saved  in  an 
ark,  the  type  of  the  Church  of  God,  and  a  rainbow  is 
set  in  the  sky  as  a  type  of  the  covenant  between  God 
and  man.  A  child  is  miraculously  bora  to  Abraham  in 
his  old  age,  who  is  aftei-wards  offered  to  God  as  a  type 
of  the  Redeemer,  and  saved  from  death  by  a  fi-esh  super- 
natmiil  manifestation  of  the  Divine  will.  The  chosen 
race  become  captive  in  Egypt,  as  a  figiu'e  of  man's 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


XVU 


e  resurrec- 


nners,  was 


bondag-e  to  ^in ;  a  senes  of  awful  miracles,  wroiiglit  by 
the  instnirrentoHty  of  Closes  himself,  a  type  of  Jesus 
Christ,  delivei-s  them  from  their  slavery,  terminating 
with  the  institution  of  the  Passover,  when  the  paschal 
lamb  is  eaten,  and  they  are  saved  by  its  blood,  as  man- 
kind is  saved  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God.  The 
ransomed  people  miraculously  pass  through  the  Red 
Sea,  foreshadowing"  the  Christian's  reg-eneration  by  bap- 
tism ;  as  they  wander  afteiwards  in  the  desert,  manna 
descends  from  heaven  to  leed  them,  and  water  gushes 
from  the  rock  to  quench  their  thirst,  and  to  prefi^re 
that  sacred  food  and  those  streams  of  grace  which  ai'e 
to  be  the  salvation  of  all  men.  Almost  every  interrup- 
tion of  the  laws  of  nature  bespeaks  the  advent  of  the 
Redeemer,  and  does  homage  to  Him  as  the  Lord  of 
earth  and  heaven. 

At  length  a  code  of  laws  is  given  to  the  chosen 
race,  to  separate  them  completely  from  the  rest  of  men, 
and  a  promise  of  perpetual  temporal  prosperity  is 
granted  to  them  by  God  as  the  reward  of  their  obe- 
dience, and  as  a  ii^re  of  the  etenial  blessedness  of  the 
just.  From  that  time,  with,  as  before,  occasional  ex- 
ceptions, the  supernatural  events  which  befal  them 
wear  a  new  aspect.  Their  peculiarly  typical  import  is 
exchanged  for  one  more  precisely  in  conformity  with 
the  leading  principle  of  the  new  dispensation  The  rit,es 
and  ceremonies  of  the  new  Law  prefigure  the  Sacrifice 
and  Redemption  of  the  Messias;  but  the  miracles  of 
the  next  fifteen  hundred  years  are  for  the  most  pai-t 
directed  to  uphold  that  rule  of  present  reward  and  pu- 
nishment, which  was  the  characteristic  feature  of  the 
Jewish  theocracy.    The  eai'th  opens  to  punish  the  dis* 


xviii 


iNxnoDUCTonv'  essay. 


obedience  of  Core  and  his  companions.  Fiery  eerpentM 
smite  the  murmurinj^  crowd  with  instant  death ;  wliile 
the  promised  Saviour  is  pr^^*  red,  not  by  a  miracle, 
but  by  the  erection  of  a  I  .  serpent  by  the  hands  of 
Mos(?s.  The  walls  of  Jericho  fall  prostrate  before  the 
trumpets  of  the  victorious  Ismelites ;  one  man,  Achan, 
unlawfully  conceals  some  of  the  spoil,  and  an  immediate 
supernatural  panic,  struck  into  his  countrymen,  betrays 
the  committal  of  the  sin.  Miraculous  water  fills  the 
fleece  of  Gedeon,  to  encourage  him  to  fight  for  his 
countiy's  deliverance.  An  ang-el  foretells  the  birth  of 
Samson  to  set  his  people  free,  when  they  are  again  in 
bondage.  Samson  himself  is  endov/ed  with  supernatural 
strength;  exhausted  with  the  slaughter  of  his  foes, 
he  prays  for  water  to  quench  his  thirst,  and  a  stream 
bui'sts  forth  from  the  ass's  jawbone  with  which  he  had 
just  slain  the  Philistines.  Bound  in  chains,  blinded, 
and  made  a  jest  by  the  idolater,  his  prayer  for  a  return 
of  his  strength  is  heard  by  God,  and  he  destroys  a  mul- 
titude in  his  last  moments. 

And  thus,  through  all  the  history  of  the  Kings  and 
the  Prophets,  the  power  of  Govl  is  repeatedly  put  forth 
to  alter  the  laws  of  nature  for  the  pui'pose>  of  enforcing 
the  great  rule  of  the  Mosaic  law.  The  disobedience  of 
the  Jews  might,  if  God  had  so  pleased,  have  been  in- 
variably punished  by  the  instramentality  of  the  ordinary 
course  of  events,  shaped  by  the  secret  hand  of  Divine 
Providence  so  as  to  execute  His  will,  just  as  now  we  find 
that  certain  sins  inevitably  bring  on  their  own  tempo- 
ral punishment  by  the  operation  of  the  laws  of  nature. 
And  so,  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances  in  which  the 
Jews  were  rewarded  and  punished,  we  find  that  the 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


zix 


Divine  promises  and  threats  wei-e  fultillod  by  the  occur- 
rence of  events  in  the  natural  order  of  thinj^.  But  yet 
frequently  miracles  confirmed  and  aided  the  work  of 
chastisement  and  blessing";  and  of  the  numerous  won- 
(lei-s  which  were  wrought  from  the  giving  of  the  law  to 
tiie  coming-  of  Christ,  we  find  that  nearly  all  bore  this 
j)eculiar  character.  For  many  centuries  also  a  constant 
miraculous  guidance  was  granted  to  the  people  in  the 
"  Urim  and  Thummim,"  by  wliich  they  were  enabled, 
when  they  chose  to  remain  faithfiil,  to  escape  all  natio..»i 
calamities  and  enjoy  the  fullest  blessings  of  the  pro- 
mised land. 

Under  the  Christian  dispensation,  again,  a  new  cha- 
racter is  imprinted  upon  the  supernatural  history  of  the 
Church,  which  is,  in  fact,  the  impression  of  the  Cross  of 
Christ.  While  the  characteristics  of  the  Patriarchal 
and  Jewish  miracles  are  not  wholly  obliterated,  an  ele- 
ment, which  if  not  entirely  new,  is  new  in  the  i  'oensity 
of  its  operation,  is  introduced  into  the  miraculous  life  of 
the  children  of  Chiist,  which  life  is  reallyHhe  prolonga- 
tion of  the  supernatural  life  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  It 
is  accompanied  also  with  a  partial  restoration  of  that 
peculiar  jiower  which  was  possessed  by  man  before  he 
fell,  when  his  body  became  a  veil  to  hide  the  world  of 
spirits  from  his  soul.  While  prophecies  of  ftiture  events 
have  not  wholly  ceased  in  the  Christian  Church,  and 
miracles  are  frequently  wi*ought  for  the  confening  of 
some  temporal  blessings,  yet  these  other  wonderftd  fea- 
tures distinguish  the  supernatural  records  of  Chris- 
tijinity  from  those  of  both  Patriarchal  and  Jewish  times. 
The  undying  power  of  the  Cross  is  manifested  in  the 
peculiai*  sufferings  of  the  Saints,  in  their  mystic  com- 


XX 


INTRODUCTORY  E8SAT. 


tiinnion  with  the  invisible  world,  and  in  that  es])ecial 
snnctity  to  which  alone  miraculous  gifts  are  for  the 
most  part  accorded  under  the  Gospel.  Not  that  al) 
these  three  peculiarities  are  to  he  observed  in  the  life  oi 
every  Saint  under  the  Gospel.  Far  from  it,  indeed. 
The  su{)ematural  life  of  the  Saints  vanes  with  different 
individuals,  according  to  tlie  pleasure  of  that  Almighty 
Spint,  who  communicates  Himself  to  His  elect  in  ten 
tiiousand  mystenous  ways,  and  manifests  Himself  ac- 
cording to  His  own  will  alone.  Still,  at  times,  they 
ore  found  united,  in  conjunction  with  those  miraculous 
powei-s  which  were  possessed  under  the  old  dispensa- 
tions in  one  individual.  In  such  cases  we  behold  the 
Life  and  Passion  of  the  King  of  Saints  visibly  renewed 
before  our  eyes;  the  law  of  suff'erinff, — that  mysterious 
power,  as  life-giving  as  it  is  unfathomable, — is  set  be- 
fore us  in  an  intensity  of  operation,  which  at  once  calls 
forth  the  scoffs  of  the  linbeliever,  and  quickens  the  faith 
of  .he  humble  Christian ;  the  privileges  of  eternity  are 
anticipated,  and  the  blessings  of  a  lost  Paradise  are  in 
part  restored.  Jesus  Christ  lives,  and  is  in  agony  before 
us ;  the  dread  scene  of  Calvaiy  is  renewed,  united  with 
those  ineffable  communications  between  the  suffering 
soul  and  its  God,  which  accompanied  the  life  and  last 
houre  of  the  Redeemer  of  mankind.  Our  adorable  Lord 
is,  as  it  were,  still  incarnate  amongst  us,  displaying  to 
OUT  reverent  faith  the  glories  of  His  Passion  in  the  per- 
sons of  those  who  are,  in  the  highest  sense  that  is  pos- 
sible, His  members,  a  portion  of  His  humanity,  in  whom 
He  dwells,  who  dwell  in  Him,  and  whose  life,  in  a 
degree  incomprehensible  even  to  themselves,  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God.  Such  a  Saint  was  St.  Fi-ances  of  Romc^ 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  TIIF.  SAINTS. 


XXI 


one  of  those  j^lonous  creations  of  Divino  grnce  by  means 
of  which,  at  the  time  wlien  the  Holv  Cifv  was  filh-d 
with  bloodslied  and  niva^'rd  with  jM'stiirncc,  and  wh(!a 
the  heaviest  disastei-s  afilicted  the  Church,  Ahnighty 
(iod  set  forth  before  men  the  undying-  life  of  the  Cross, 
and  the  reality  of  that  reli«»-ion  >^I  ich  seemed  to  he 
powerless  to  check  the  outrag;es  of  its  professed  fol- 
lowerSr 

In  Paradise,  then,  as  lias  been  said,  the  whole  na- 
ture of  man  ministered  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  end  for 
which  he  was  created,  namely,  the  knowledg-e  and  love 
of  God.  He  came  forth  from  his  Maker's  hands  en- 
dowed not  only  with  a  natural  soul  and  body  imtainted 
with  sin,  but  with  such  supernatural  gifts,  aiising*  from 
the  Divine  Presence  witiiin  him,  that  nothinjj^  was 
wanting  but  persevemnce  to  his  final  perfection.  The 
vai'ious  elements  in  his  nature  were  not,  as  now,  at  war 
with  one  another.  His  body  did  not  blind  the  eye  of 
his  soul,  and  agitate  it  with  the  storms  of  concupis- 
cence; nor  did  the  soul  employ  the  body  as  its  instru- 
ment of  rebellion  against  God.  Though  not  yet  ad- 
mitted to  that  glorious  vision  of  the  Eternal  which  was 
to  be  the  reward  of  his  obedience,  yet  he  lived  in  direct 
commerce  with  the  world  of  spirits.  He  knew  and 
conversed  with  God  and  His  angels  in  a  way  which  is 
now  wholly  incomprehensible  to  the  vast  majority  of 
his  descendants. 

When  Adam  fell,  he  became,  in  one  word,  what  we 
all  are  now  by  nature.  Not  only  was  he  placed  under 
a  curse,  but  his  God  was  hidden  from  his  eyes ;  and 
that  corporeal  habitation,  which  he  had  abused  to  his 
soul's  destruction,  became  the  prison  of  his  soul's  cap- 


uii 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


tivity.  Though  created  in  the  image  of  God,  and  re- 
taining, even  when  fallen,  certain  traces  of  his  celestial 
origin,  he  became  a  mere  helpless  denizen  of  earth,  and 
a  veil  descended  and  hid  his  God  and  all  spiritual  beings 
from  his  mind.  From  that  time  forwards  suffering  be- 
came not  merely  the  law  of  his  daily  life,  but  the  only 
means  by  which  he  coidd  be  first  restored  to  the  Divine 
favour,  and  finally  be  taken  to  a  happy  eternity.  And 
inasmuch  as  he  was  to  be  redeemed  by  the  sufferings 
of  One  who  was  at  once  man  and  not  man.  He  was  in 
a  certain  sense  to  share  those  sufferings,  in  order  to 
partake  in  the  blessings  they  purchased  for  him.  A 
mystic  union  was  to  take  place  between  the  Saviour 
and  the  fallen  race,  of  which  a  community  in  suffeiing, 
as  the  instrument  of  restoration,  was  to  be  for  ever  and 
in  every  case  established.  This  anguish,  iurther,  was 
to  be  twofold,  including  all  the  faculties  both  of  the 
body  and  the  soul.  Man  had  sinned  in  his  whole 
being;  in  his  whole  being,  therefore,  he  was  to  suffer, 
both  in  the  person  of  his  Redeemer,  who  was  to  suffer 
for  him,  and  in  himself,  who  was  to  suffer  with  his  Sa- 
A  "  holocaust"  was  to  be  offered  to  the  offended 


viour. 


Majesty  of  God;  an  offering,  not  only  of  his  entire 
natui'e,  but  a  burnt  offering;  a  sacrifice  which  should 
torture  him  in  the  flames  of  Divine  vengeance,  and  kill 
him  with  its  annihilating  fiei-ceness. 

As,  however,  it  pleased  the  Divine  Wisdom  to  post- 
pone for  forty  centuries  the  advent  and  atonement  of 
the  Redeemer,  so,  for  the  same  period,  the  race  re- 
deemed participated,  in  a  comparatively  slight  degree, 
in  those  restorative  sufferings  which  derived  all  their 
virtue  from  the  sacrifice  upon  the  Gross.    Pangs  of 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OP  THE  SAINTS. 


XX  m 


d,  and  re- 

s  celestial 
jarth,  and 
aal  beings 

J  the  only 
he  Divine 
ty.    And 
sufferings 
le  was  in 
order  to 
him.    A 
■  Saviour 
luffei-ing^ 
ever  and 
her,  was 
h  of  the 
is  whole 
0  suffer, 
to  suffer 
his  Sa- 
offended 
8  entire 
i  should 
and  kill 

to  post- 
nent  of 
ace  re- 
degree, 
II  their 
ags  of 


hody  and  bitterness  of  soul  were,  in  ti-uth,  the  lot  of 
man  from  the  mcment  that  Adam  sinned;  but  they 
wei-e  the  pangs  and  bitterness  of  a  criminal  under  pun- 
ishment, far  more  than  the  sacrificial  pains  of  tho 
membei-s  of  Christ  crucified.  Asceticism  foniied  but  a 
small  portion  of  the  religious  woi-ship  of  the  people  of 
God,  until  the  great  atonement  was  completed  upon 
rialvary.  Not  that  any  degree,  even  the  lowest,  of  ac- 
ceptable obedience  could  ever  be  attained  without  some 
measure  of  the  crucifixion  of  the  natural  man.  Pa- 
triarchs and  Israelites  alike  felt  the  power  of  the  Cross 
as  the  instrument  of  their  sanctification.  But  still 
earthly  prosperity,  including  bodily  pleasures,  was,  as 
a  nile,  the  reward  with  which  God  recompensed  His 
faithful  servants.  That  which  became  the  rule  under 
the  Gospel,  was  the  exception  from  Adam  till  Moses, 
and  from  Moses  until  Christ.  Here  and  there  some 
great  example  of  Christian  asceticism  enforced  upon  a 
sensual  people  the  nature  of  perfect  sanctity.  Elias 
fasted  on  Mount  Carmel,  and  beheld  the  skirts  of  the 
glory  of  the  Most  High.  The  Baptist  fasted  and  tamed 
his  natm-al  ilesh  in  the  wilderness,  and  beheld  not  only 
the  Incai-nate  Son  of  God,  but  the  descent  of  the  Eter- 
nal Spii-it  upon  Him.  Yet,  for  the  most  part,  the  fa- 
voured servants  of  God  lived  the  lives  of  ordinary  men; 
they  possessed  houses,  riches,  and  honoura ;  and  married 
wives,  even  more  than  one. 

At  length  the  Cross  was  set  up  in  all  its  awfiil 
•power ;  suffering  received  its  perfect  consecration,  and 
took  its  ruling  j)lace  in  the  economy  of  man's  redemjj- 
tion.  Jesus,  in  descending  from  the  Cross,  bestowed 
that  Ci*oss  upon  His  cliiidren,  to  be  their  treasure  unti' 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAT. 


the  end  of  the  world.  Crucifixion  with  Him,  and 
through  Him,  as  their  Head,  became  their  portion  and 
their  glory.  Every  soul  that  was  so  buried  in  His 
wounds  as  to  receive  the  fiiU  blessings  of  His  sacrifice, 
was  thei-eby  nailed,  in. Christ,  to  the  Cross,  not  to  de- 
scend from  its  hallowed  wood  until,  like  Christ,  it  was 
dead  thereon.  Henceforth  the  sanctity  of  God's  chosen 
sei-vants  assumes  its  new  character.  It  is  no  longer 
written,  "  I  will  bring  you  into  a  land  flowing  with  the 
milk  and  honey  of  thid  earth ;"  but,  "  Blessed  are  the 
poor,  and  they  that  suffer  persecution."  The  lot  of 
Abraham  and  of  David  is  exchanged  for  that  of  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul.  In  place  of  triumph  in  war  with 
the  idolaters,  the  Christian  is  promised  persecution;  in 
place  of  many  herds  and  flocks,  and  ti'easures  of  gold, 
God  gives  him  poverty  and  sickness ;  the  fast,  the  vigil, 
the  scourge,  take  place  of  the  palaces  of  cedar  and  the 
luxuriant  couch;  marriage  gives  way  to  celibacy;  and 
long  life  is  a  privilege  in  order  that  in  many  years  we 
may  suffer  much,  and  not  that  we  may  enjoy  much. 
Such  is  the  ordinary  course  of  the  Divine  dealings  with 
the  soul  since  the  Cross  received  its  full  mysterious 
saving  power. 

And  to  the  full  as  mysterious  is  the  new  character 
imprinted  upon  the  miraculous  life  of  Christian  sanctity. 
The  phenomera  of  that  new  existence,  in  which  certain 
souls  are  brought  into  mystic  communion  with  the  un- 
seen world,  bear  the  print  of  the  wounds  of  the  Eternal 
Son  in  a  manner  which  fills  the  ordinary'  Chrirtian 
mind  with  amazement  and  trembling.  It  is  by  a  pain- 
ful crucifixion  of  the  natural  man,  both  soul  and  body, 
canied  to  a  far  more  than  ordinary  perfection,  that  the 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


ZXT 


fonl  is  inti'oduced  into  this  miraculous  condition.  Im- 
prisoned in  her  fleshly  tabernacle,  which,  though  re- 
generated, is  through  sin  foul,  earthly,  and  blinding 
as  ever,  the  mind  can  only  be  admitted  to  share  in  the 
communion  which  Jesus  Christ  unceasingly  held  with 
His  Father  and  with  the  world  invisible,  by  attaining 
some  portion  of  that  self-masteiy  which  Adam  lost  by 
his  fall.  The  physical  nature  must  be  subdued  by  the 
vigorous  repetition  of  those  many  painful  processes  by 
which  the  animal  portion  of  our  being  is  rendered  the 
slave  of  the  spiritual,  and  the  will  and  the  affections 
are  rent  away  from  all  creatures,  to  be  fixed  on  God 
alone.  Fasting  and  abstinence  are  the  first  elements 
in  this  ascetic  course.  The  natural  taste  is  neglected, 
thwarted,  and  tormented,  till,  wearied  of  soliciting  its 
own  gratification,  it  ceases  to  interfere  with  the  inde- 
pendent action  of  the  soul.  The  appetite  is  further  de- 
nied its  wonted  satisfaction  as  to  quantity  of  focd.  By 
fasts  gradually  increasing  in  severity,  new  modes  of 
physical  existence  are  introduced ;  that  which  was  ori- 
ginally an  impossibility  becomes  a  second  law  of  nature; 
and  the  emaciated  fi*ame,  forgetting  its  former  lusts, 
obeys  almost  spontaneously  the  dictates  of  the  victorious 
spirit  within.  The  hours  of  sleep  are  curtailed  under 
judicious  control,  until  that  mysterious  sentence  which 
compels  us  to  pass  a  third  of  our  existence  in  uncon- 
scious helplessness  is  in  part  repealed.  The  soul,  habi- 
tuated to  incessant  and  self-collected  action,  wakes  and 
lives,  while  ordinary  Christians  slumber,  and  as  it  were 
are  dead.  The  infliction  of  other  severe  bodily  pains 
co-operates  in  the  purifying  process,  and  enables  the 
mind  to  disregard  the  dictates  of  nature  to  an  extent 


XXVI 


Introductory  essay. 


wbich  to  many  Catholics  seems  almost  incredible,  and 
to  the  unbeliever  an  utter  impossibility.  Physical  life 
is  supported  under  conditions  wliich  would  cnisli  a  con- 
stitution not  supported  by  the  mii-aculous  aid  of  al- 
mig^hty  power ;  and  feeble  men  and  women  accomplish 
works  of  charity  and  heroic  self-sacrifice  fi'om  which 
the  most  robust  and  energetic  of  the  human  race,  in 
their  highest  state  of  natural  perfection,  woiUd  shrink 
back  in  dismay  as  hopeless  impossibilities.  The  senses 
are  literally  tyrannised  over,  scorned,  derided,  insult- 
ingly trampled  on.  The  sight,  the  smell,  the  hearing, 
the  touch,  and  the  taste,  are  taught  to  exercise  them- 
selves upon  objects  revolting  to  then'  original  inclina- 
tions. They  leani  to  minister  to  the  will  without  dis- 
playing one  rebellious  symptom.  Matter  yields  to 
spuit;  the  soul  is  the  master  of  the  body;  while  the 
perceptions  of  the  intellig-ence  attain  an  exquisite  sensi- 
bility, and  the  mind  is  gifted  with  faculties  absolutely 
new,  the  flesh  submits,  almost  insensible  to  its  condition 
of  servitude,  and  scarcely  murmurs  at  the  daily  death 
it  is  compelled  to  endm-e. 

The  process  is  the  same  in  all  that  regaiids  the  af- 
fections and  passions  of  the  mind  itself.  The  heart  is 
denied  every  thing  that  it  desires,  which  is  not  God. 
However  innocent,  however  praiseworthy,  may  be  the 
indulgence  in  certain  feelings,  and  the  gratification  of 
certain  pursuits  in  ordinary  Christians,  in  the  case  of 
these  favoured  souls  nature  is  crushed  in  all  her  paits. 
Her  faculties  remain,  but  they  are  directed  to  spiritual 
things  alone.  Possessions  of  all  kindp,  lands,  houses, 
books,  pictures,  gardens,  husband,  wiie,  children,  friends, 
— €ill  share  the  same  tremendous  sentence.    God  esta- 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


XXVll 


Wishes  Himself  in  the  soul,  not  only  supreme,  but  as 
the  only  inliabitant.  Whatsoever  remains  to  be  done  in 
this  woild  is  done  as  a  dutv,  often  as  a  most  obnoxious 
diitv.  Love  for  the  souls  that  Christ  has  redeemed  is 
the  only  human  feeling"  that  is  left  unsubjugated ;  and 
wheresoever  the  emotions  of  natiu^  aflfection  and  fidend- 
ship  ming'le  with  this  Christian  love,  they  are  watched, 
and  restrained  with  unsparmg  severity,  that  the  heart 
may  come  at  last  to  love  nothing*,  except  in  Christ 
Himself. 

All  this,  indeed,  repeatedly  takes  place  in  the  case 
of  pereons  in  whom  the  purely  miraculous  life  of  the 
Christian  Saint  is  never  even  commenced.  It  is  that 
which  all  monks  and  nuns  are  boimd  to  strugg-le  for, 
according'  to  the  different  rules  to  which  they  have  re- 
spectively received  their  vocation.  And,  by  the  mercy 
of  God,  this  perfect  detachment  from  earth,  and  this 
marvellous  crucifixion  of  the  flesh,  is  accomplished  in 
many  a  devout  religious,  to  whom  the  extraordinary 
gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost  are  as  unknown  as  His  extraor- 
dinary gi*aces  ai-e  familiar.  Still,  in  those  exceptional 
instances  where  miraculous  powers  of  any  species  are 
bestowed,  this  bitter  death,  this  personal  renewal  (as 
far  as  man  can  renew  it)  of  the  agonies  of  Calvary,  is 
ordinarily  the  necessary  prepaitition  for  admission  to 
the  revelations  of  the  Divine  glory,  and  to  the  other 
mysteries  of  the  miraculous  life. 

The  physical  nature,  then,  being  thus  subdued,  and 
taught  to  be  the  obedient  servant  of  the  sanctified  will, 
the  histoiy  of  the  Catholic  Church  records  a  long  series 
of  instances  in  which  tlie  soul  has  been  brought  into 
direct  oomimmior.  with  God,  with  angels,  and  with 


XXVIU 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


devils,  more  or  less  through  the  sensible  instruuientality 
of  the  bodily  senses,  thus  spiritualised  and  exalted  to  a 
new  office.  The  ineffable  glories  of  the  life  of  Christ 
are  renewed  in  those  who  have  thus  endured  the  crosf 
of  Christ.  The  death  of  the  body  is  the  life  of  the  soul ; 
and  the  Son  of  God  is,  as  it  were,  again  visibly  incar- 
nate in  the  world  which  He  has  redeemed. 

The  phenomena  of  this  miraculous  state  are  as 
various  as  they  are  wonderful.  There  is  scarcely  a 
natuitd  law  of  our  being  which  is  not  found  to  be  fre- 
quently suspended.  Such  is  the  odour  of  sanctity,  a 
celestial  perfrmie  that  exhales  from  the  person  of  the 
Saint,  in  conditions  where  any  such  delicious  fragrance 
could  not  possibly  spring  from  natm'al  causes,  and  where 
even,  as  in  the  case  of  a  dead  body,  natui'e  would  send 
foi-th  scents  of  the  most  repulsive  kind.  In  such  in- 
stances, sometimes  in  life,  sometimes  in  death,  some- 
times in  health,  sometimes  in  loathsome  diseases,  there 
issues  from  the  physical  frame  an  odour  of  uneai'thly 
sweetness,  perhaps  commimicating  itself  to  objects  which 
touch  the  saintly  form. 

Or  a  strange  supernatural  warmth  pervades  the 
entire  body,  wholly  independent  of  the  condition  of  the 
atmosphere,  and  in  circumstances  when  by  the  laws  of 
nature  the  limbs  would  be  cold ;  sometimes,  while  sick- 
ness has  reduced  the  system  to  such  a  degree  of  ex- 
haustion, and  brought  on  so  morbid  an  action  of  the 
functions,  that  the  stomach  rejects,  with  a  sort  of  ab- 
hon'ence,  every  species  of  food,  the  most  holy  Eucharist 
is  received  without  difficulty,  and  seems  not  only  to  bft 
thus  received,  but  to  furnish  sufficient  sustenance  for 
the  attenuated  frame.    Not  unfrequently  cormption 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


x\a 


lias  no  power  ovei  a  sacred  corpse ;  and  witLoiit  the 
employment  of  any  of  the  common  processes  for  em- 
balming', centui'ies  pass  away,  and  the  body  of  the  Saint 
remains  untouched  by  decay,  bearing  the  impress  of 
life  in  death,  and  not  crumbling  to  dust,  as  in  cases  of 
natm'al  preservation,  when  exposed  to  the  action  of  th^ 
atmosphere.  Add  to  these,  the  supernatural  flexibility 
and  hghtness  with  which  at  times  the  living  body  is 
endowed  by  Divine  power ;  the  physical  accompaniment 
of  ecstasy ;  the  elevation  of  the  entire  body  ii'om  the 
gi-ound,  and  its  suspension  in  the  air  for  a  considerable 
space  of  time ;  and  we  have  sufficient  examples  of  the 
mysterious  ways  in  which  the  bodies  of  Saints  bespeak 
the  pui'ity  which  dwells  within  them,  and  m  a  degree 
anticipate  the  corpoi'eal  perfections  of  those  glorified 
habitations  in  which  the  souls  of  the  just  will  dwell 
after  the  resuiTection. 

By  another  class  of  miraculous  powera  possessed  by- 
Christian  Saints,  they  are  enablea  to  recognise  the  true 
nature  or  pi'esence  of  purely  spu'itual  objects  by  ihe  in- 
strumentality of  their  natural  organs  of  sense.  Thus, 
a  mere  touch  at  times  reveals  to  them  the  moi'al  con- 
dition of  the  person  on  whom  they  lay  their  hands.  A 
singular  distaste  for  natm'al  food  is  accompanied  by  a 
perception  of  a  celestial  sweetness  in  the  holy  Eucharist. 
Gross  sinners  appear  to  the  sight  in  the  foim  of  hideous 
monsters,  demoniacal  in  theu'  aspect,  or  as  wearing  the 
look  of  the  most  repulsive  of  the  brute  creation.  The 
sense  of  smell  in  like  manner,  detects  the  state  of  the 
soul,  while  the  ear  is  opened  to  heavenly  sounds  and 
voices,  and  Almighty  God  speaks  to  the  inner  conscious- 
ness in  a  maimer  which,  inexplicable  as  it  is  when  de« 


M 


n 


xxz 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 


fined  in  the  language  of  human  science,  is  shown  by 
incontestable  proofs  to  be  a  real  communication  from 
heaven  to  the  enlightened  intelligence. 

In  certain  cases  the  animal  creation  ai*e  taught  to 
do  homage  to  the  presence  of  a  Saint.  As  God  opened 
the  eyes  of  Balaam's  ass,  and  it  beheld  the  messenger 
of  Divine  wrath  standing  with  a  sword  in  his  hand, 
so  birds,  fishes,  insects,  sheep,  and  the  wildest  beasts 
of  the  forests,  have  at  times  saluted  the  Saints  with 
joy  and  sweetness,  laying  aside  their  natural  timidity 
or  their  natural  ferocity,  and  recalling  the  hour  when 
Adam  dwelt  in  sinless  peace  in  Eden,  surrounded  by 
the  creatures  which  the  hand  of  God  had  made.  All 
nature  is  bid  thus  to  arise  to  welcome  the  elect  of  the 
Lo*d  of  nature.  Flowers  spring*  up  beneath  their  feet ; 
fruits  suddenly  ripen,  and  invite  them  to  gather  and 
eat;  storms  cease,  and  gentle  winds  refi'esh  the  sky. 
Every  where  the  presence  of  Him  who  lulled  the  tem- 
pest with  a  word  is  recognised  in  the  souls  in  whom  He 
dwells,  and  in  whom  He  thus,  in  a  mystic  sense,  fulfils 
His  own  promise,  that  the  meek  shall  possess  the  land. 

Thus,  again,  time  and  space  are  in  their  degree 
comparatively  annihilated  for  the  sake  of  some  of  these 
favoured  servants  of  the  Eternal  and  Omnipresent.  St. 
Pius  v.,  while  bodily  in  Home,  was  a  witness  of  the 
naval  victory  of  the  Christians  over  the  Turks;  St. 
Joseph  of  Cupertino  i-ead  lettere  addressed  to  him  while 
their  authors  were  writing  them  far  away ;  St.  Domi- 
nic foresaw  the  war  of  the  Albigenses,  and  the  death 
of  Peter  of  Arragon ;  and  St.  Ignatius  beheld  his  suc- 
cessor in  the  Duke  of  Gandia.  A  similar  mysterious 
faculty  enables  its  possessor  to  discera  the  presence  of 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


XXXI 


relics  and  other  sacred  objects,  more  especially  of  the 
adorable  Eucharistic  species ;  or  even  to  behold  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  in  His  g-lorified  human  form,  in  place  of 
the  usual  appearance  of  bread  and  wine ;  while  in  some 
instances  the  Host  has  darted,  unbome  by  mortal  hand, 
into  the  mouth  of  a  Saint  about  to  communicate  at  the 
foot  of  the  altar. 

On  those  species  of  miracles  which  are  in  no  way 
peculiar  to  the  Christian  dispensation  I  need  not  linger. 
Such  is  the  gift  of  healing,  whether  by  the  Saint's  will  and 
touch  while  alive,  or  by  his  relics  and  intercession  when 
dead.  Such  is  the  gift  of  prophecy,  which  abounded,  as 
we  might  have  expected,  far  more  in  the  Saints  before 
the  advent  of  the  Redeemer  than  since  His  coming,  and 
which,  indeed,  was  not  rigidly  confined  to  men  of  reli- 
gious character.  Such  are  those  supernatural  powers  by 
which  our  present  temporal  blessings,  in  addition  to  the 
cure  of  diseases,  are  conferred  upon  individuals  or  com- 
munities by  the  instrumentality  of  holy  men  and  women. 
T  confine  myself  to  those  more  peculiarly  Christian  pri- 
vileges, which,  though  they  were  not' wholly  unknown 
to  the  Patriarchal  and  Mosaic  Saints,  are  yet  eminently 
characteristic  of  those  times  in  which  the  glorification 
of  the  humanity  of  Jesus  appears  to  have  shed  a  mea- 
sure of  glories  upon  the  bodies  of  those  who  most  in- 
tensely share  the  suflTerings  of  His  cross. 

Some  of  these  tokens  of  the  perpetual  death  of  the 
Son  of  God  in  His  Saints  were,  indeed,  for  several  cen- 
turies either  unknown,  or  extraordinarily  rare  in  the 
Christian  Church  herself.  Such  is  that  most  t.wftil  of 
the  displays  of  the  undying  power  of  the  Cross,  in  which 
the  actual  wounds  and  tortui-es  of  the  crucified  Jesus 


y 


m 


XXXii  INTRODUCTORY  E9SAT. 

tue  visibly  rcneweo,  by  a  miruculous.  agency,  in  the 
persons  of  His  chosen  ones.  This  most  terrible  of  the 
gifts  of  the  great  God  is  generally  preceded  by  some 
supernatural  occurrence  foreshadowing  the  visible  re- 
presentatiou  of  the  scene  on  Calvary  about  to  be  set  up 
before  the  eyes  of  men.  At  one  time  it  is  a  species 
of  bloody  sweat,  like  that  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  garden 
of  Gethsemani ;  at  another,  a  visible  print  of  the  cross 
is  impressed  upon  the  shoulders;  or  angels  present  a 
mystic  cup  of  suffering  to  the  Lands  of  the  self-sacri- 
ficing Saint.  Then  follows  what  is  termed  stigmatiaa' 
tiofif  or  the  renewal  of  the  actual  wounds  of  the  Cruci- 
fied, accompanied  with  the  bloody  marks  of  the  crown 
of  thorns  upon  the  sufferer's  head;  for  the  most  part 
one  by  one,  until  the  whole  awful  commemoration  is 
complete,  the  skin  and  fle  h  are  rent  on  the  forehead 
and  round  the  head,  in  the  hands,  in  the  feet,  and  in 
the  side ;  a  stream  of  gore  pours  forth,  at  times  trickling 
down  in  slow  drops,  at  times  (as  on  Fridays)  in  a  fuller 
tide,  accompanied  with  agonising  pangs  of  body,  and 
except  in  the  fiercest  moments  of  spiiitual  conflict,  with 
interior  consolations  of  ravishing  sweetness.  The  wounds 
pierce  deep  down  into  the  flesh,  running  even  through 
the  hands  and  the  feet. 

The  state  of  ecstasy  is  another  of  the  most  wonder- 
ful of  the  elements  of  the  miraculous  life  of  the  Saints. 
Under  the  Divine  influence  the  physical  frame  under- 
goes a  change  in  many  respects  similar  to  that  which  is 
supposed  (whether  truly  or  falsely)  to  result  from  tho 
operation  of  magnetism  or  somnambulism.  Many  fea- 
tures, at  the  same  time,  distinguish  the  Christian  ec- 
static condition  from  that  which  is  produced  by  purely 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OP  THE  SAINTS.        XXXUI 


plijsical  or  (it  may  be)  diabolical  causes,  on  which  we 
cannot  at  present  enter  in  detail.  It  is  sufficient  to  say, 
that  the  results  of  the  tnie  ecstasy  are  in  the  strictest 
conformity  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian  revela- 
tion, and  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  perfections  and 
rules  of  the  moral  world. 

The  soul  in  this  state  becomes,  as  it  were,  independent 
of  the  power  of  the  body,  or  she  uses  her  physical  senses 
in  an  absolute  subordination  to  her  own  illumined  will. 
Visions,  such  as  are  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament  in 
the  case  of  the  prophets,  are  presented  to  her  faculties. 
She  is  introduced  into  the  courts  of  heaven,  and  beholds 
and  converses  with  Saints  in  glory,  with  the  Mother  of 
God,  with  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  Or  the  whole  mystery 
of  the  Pasfiion  is  re-enacted  before  her  spiritualised  sight, 
the  evangelical  history  being  filled  up  with  all  those 
actual  but  minuter  details  which  are  omitted  in  the 
written  records  of  the  Gospels.  In  certain  cases,  the 
body  itself  is  lifted  up  from  the  ground,  and  so  remains 
for  a  while  in  the  presence  of  a  crowd  of  bystanders.  In 
othera,  the  soul,  while  in  ecstasy,  is  the  medium  of  com- 
munication between  Almighty  God  and  other  persons 
then  present,  and  the  Saint's  voice  repeats  the  revela- 
tions to  those  for  whom  they  are  designed.  Or,  again, 
an  unearthly  flame  shining  around  the  head  or  whole 
pereon  of  the  ecstatic,  like  the  cloven  tongues  upon  the 
Apostles  at  Pentecost,  attests  the  presence  of  the  Invi- 
sible, and  symbolises  the  message  sent  forth  from  His 
throne  to  men. 

A  more  purely  intellectual  vision  or  revelation  is 
another  of  the  works  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  His  Saints. 
By  such  revelations,  for  the  most  part,  the  truths  of 


9  -'I 


xxxiir 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


Iioly  Scripture  were  communicated  to  its  writers.  God, 
who  created  the  human  soul  witli  all  its  faculties,  and 
who  is  able  to  make  known  His  will  in  any  way  that 
lie  pleases  to  the  intellig'ence,  has  His  own  mysterious 
but  not  less  accurate  tests,  by  which  He  enables  the 
favoured  spirit  to  discern  a  i-evelation  irom  a  mere 
product  of  the  human  imagination,  and  to  distinguish 
between  the  voice  of  God  nnd  the  sug-gestions  of  Satan. 
Nor  was  this  mode  of  intercourse  between  the  soul  and 
her  God  confined  exclusively  to  the  elder  dispensations 
or  to  apostolic  ag^es.  Many  a  Christian  Saint  has  been 
privileg-ed  to  contemplate  God  Himself,  in  a  certain  sense, 
in  His  essence ;  beholding-  the  depths  of  such  mysteries 
as  those  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  the  Incaination,  the  Eu- 
charistio  Presence,  or  the  true  nature  of  sin,  with  a 
du'ectness  of  vision,  and  comprehending  them  to  an  ex- 
tent, which  passes  the  powers  of  human  language  to 
define. 

Lastly,  all  that  we  read  in  the  Bible  respecting  the 
visible  and  tangible  intercoui'se  between  man  and  the 
angelic  and  diabolic  host  is  continued  in  the  times  of 
Christianity.  The  reality  of  the  ministration  of  angels 
and  of  the  assaults  of  demons,  in  the  case  of  all  Chris- 
tians, is  believed  by  every  Catholic ;  but  in  very  many 
cases  the  Saints  have  become  conscious  of  the  pre- 
sence and  actions  of  their  undeen  friends  and  foes  as 
of  the  presence  and  actions  of  mortal  men.  To  some 
Saints,  our  blessed  Lord  Himself  has  appeared  in  human 
form,  perhaps  in  that  of  the  most  despised  and  miserable 
of  the  poor  and  sick;  to  others,  their  guardian-angels 
or  other  pure  spirits  have  presented  themselves,  some- 
times in  the  guise  of  ordinary  men,  and  sometimes  ia  a 


MIHACULOljS  LIFB  OF  THB  SAINTS. 


miw 


manifestly  siipernatuml  s\ia\)e.  Often,  too,  the  enlight- 
ened soul  has  beheld  Satiui  nnd  his  accursed  spirits, 
either  working*  it  source  bodily  injury,  or  assaulting  il 
with  some  subtle  temptation,  or  seeking  to  scare  it  by 
assuming'  some  hideous  loathsome  shai)e,  or  assuming 
the  giu'b  of  an  angel  of  light  for  the  purpose  of  ac- 
complishing his  hellish  ends.  Of  all  these  supernatural 
phenomena,  however,  illustrations  will  readily  occur  to 
those  who  are  familiar  with  tlio  lives  of  Saints,  or,  in- 
deed, to  those  who  have  studied  the  Bible  only,  and 
who  read  the  inspired  wiitings  as  really  trtuff  remera- 
'jering  that  the  miraculous  events  there  recorded  did 
lot  cease  the  moment  that  tlie  canon  of  Scripture  was 
closed,  but  that  such  as  was  the  relation  between  God 
ind  man  and  angels  and  devils  for  more  than  four  thou- 
wnd  years,  such  it  has  been  until  this  very  hour. 

Such,  then,  are  the  doctnnes  and  opinions  which  are 
fmplied  in  what  may  be  termed  the  miraculous  life  of 
\  atholic  Saints,  and  of  which  the  history  of  Francos 
1 1  Home  presents  one  of  the  most  I'emarkable  examples. 
'J  hey  are  hei-e  but  briefly  sketched :  but  I  tnist  that 
enough  has  been  said  to  indicate  the  general  character 
of  the  principles  involved  in  these  wonderful  histories ; 
and  I  now  pass  on  to  offer  a  few  I'emarks  on  the  self- 
coatr<Mlictions  into  which  those  {iersons  fall  who  refiise 
to  in^'estigate  this  species  of  subject  on  the  ordinary 
ruL^  uf  historical  evidence. 

I  need  hardly  remind  the  reader  that  an  immense 
nunub.  p  of  persons,  both  infidels  and  Protestants,  espe- 
cially "'n  sober-minded  England  and  Scotland,  treat 
every  irofessed  Catholic  miracle  as  a  portion  of  the 
vast  I  g'antio  system   of  deliberate  fraud  and  villany 


I 


M 


}•. 


XXXVl 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


which  they  conceive  f »  be  the  very  life  of  Catholicism. 
From  the  Pope  to  the  humblest  priest  who  says  Mass 
and  hears  confessions  in  an  ugly  little  chapel  in  the 
shabbiest  street  of  a  country  town,  all  are  regnrded  as 
leagued  in  one  wide-spreading  imposture.  Pius  IX., 
for  instance,  it  is  imagined,  knows  the  liquefaction  of 
St.  Januarius's  blood  to  be  a  trick  of  the  Neapolitan 
clergy ;  but  he  keeps  up  the  falsehood  for  the  sake  of 
gain  and  pow^r.  In  like  rtanner,  he  has  an  extensive 
Homan  laboratory  ever  at  work  for  the  manufacture  of 
all  the  instnmients  of  delusion  which  his  emissaries  pit)- 
pagate  throughout  Christendom.  There  he  makes  false 
relics,  from  portions  of  the  true  cross  downwards;  there 
he  sells  pardons  and  indulgences;  and  there  he  has  a 
corps  of  writers  employed  in  the  invention  of  fictitious 
mii-aculous  tales,  saints'  lives,  and  the  like.  All  over 
the  world  he  has  "  agents"  for  the  sale  of  these  goods, 
the  Catholic  Bishops  in  England  being  his  "  English 
Correspondents,"  who  doubtless  receive  a  handsome  per 
centage  on  the  profits  realised.  The  staff  of  imderlings 
is  also  complete,  energetic,  and  well  paid.  Thus,  the 
Oratorian  Fathers  are  busily  employed  in  scattering 
"Saints*  Lives"  throughout  this  country,  greatly  to 
their  own  profit.  Thus,  too,  I  am  myself  engaged  in  a 
similar  work,  either  laughing  in  my  sleeve  at  the  cre- 
dulity on  which  I  practise,  or  submitting  from  sheer 
intellectual  incompetence  to  be  the  tool  of  some  wily 
Jesuit  who  enjoins  the  unhallowed  task.  Such,  when 
drawn  out  into  details,  and  stripped  of  the  pompous  de- 
clamation of  the  platform,  is,  in  serious  truth,  the  idea 
which  innumerable  pei-sons  imagine  to  be  the  Catholic 
system  of  propngandism  and  deceit;  and  every  Catholio 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS.        XXXvU 


miracle  is  thus  accounted  for  by  the  supposed  wicked- 
ness of  all  Catholics,  except  a  few  blinded  ignoi-ant 
devotees. 

Any  argument,  therefore,  addressed  to  prejudg"- 
ments  of  this  class  must  merg'e  in  the  g-eneral  argument, 
which  shows  that,  whether  the  Catholic  religion  be  true 
or  false,  it  is  beyond  the  limits  of  credibility  that  its 
ruling  principle  can  be  one  of  intentional  deception.  I 
insist,  then,  that  it  would  not  merely  be  a  miracle, — it 
is  an  impossibility/  that  such  an  imposture  should  re- 
main undetected  to  this  day,  and  that  men  and  women 
of  all  ranks,  ages,  and  countries,  the  ablest  and  the  most 
simple,  including  uncounted  fathers  and  mothers  of  fa* 
milies,  should  persist  in  submitting  to  and  upholding 
the  authority  of  a  few  thousand  priests,  who  are  really 
no  better  than  incarnate  devils.  Whether  the  Catholio 
system  be  an  error  or  not,  it  must  have  fallen  to  pieces 
a  hundred  times  over,  if  its  chief  ruler  and  his  subordi- 
nates were  mere  tricksters,  playing  upon  the  credulity 
of  a  fanatical  and  besotted  world.  By  this  same  test, 
then,  its  miraculous  histories  must  be  judged,  like  the 
general  characters  of  its  supporters.  They  who  pro- 
pagate these  stories  believe  them  to  be  true.  They 
do  not,  of  course,  assert  that  evert/  supernatural  story  is 
what  it  professes  to  be.  They  may  even  admit  that 
many  are  the  mera  creations  of  well-meaning  but  ill- 
informed  report.  Nor  is  every  Catholic  priest,  monk, 
or  layman  to  be  accounted  a  sincere  and  honest  man. 
There  are  betrayei-s  of  their  Lord,  from  Judas  Iscariot 
to  the  last  wretched  apostates,  who  remain  for  years  in 
the  Church,  deceiving  others  without  deceiving  them- 
selves.   But  on  the  whole,  and  viewed  aa  a  body,  the 


XXXVIU 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


Catholic  Church  is  as  honest  and  truthful,  when  sht 
asserts  that  many  wonderful  miracles  are  incessantly 
taking  place  within  her,  as  the  most  scrupulous  of  mor 
ralists  can  desire. 

"But  she  is  herself  deceived,"  exclaims  the  more 
candid  separatist  or  sceptic,  takLng*  up  the  argument 
declined  by  his  scofi&ng  brother.  Catholics,  it  is  sup'^ 
posed,  are  under  the  dominion  of  so  abject  a  superstition, 
that  the  moment  the  subject  of  their  religion  is  intro- 
duced, they  cease  to  exert  their  ordinary  common  sense 
and  powers  of  criticism,  and  believe  any  thing  and  every 
thing  that  seems  to  be  marvellous.  Granting  them  to 
be  sincei'e,  the  charitable  Protestant  is  of  opinion  that 
they  are  intellectually  incapable  of  testing  the  preten- 
sions of  these  wonders  to  be  real  and  true  miracles.  I^ 
in  plain  woixis,  Catholics  are  not  knaves,  they  must  bs 
fools.  Now,  let  me  ask  any  candid  person  who  thus 
accounts  for  our  belief  in  modem  miracles,  to  fiimish 
me  with  an  intelligible  answer  on  two  points.  Fii*8t, 
let  him  explain  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  an  innumer- 
able multitude  of  persons,  many  of  them  distinguished 
for  tlie  highest  intellectual  powei-s,  and  proving  by  their 
lives  and  their  deaths  that  they  are  ready  to  make  every 
sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  religion,  should  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  imposed  upon  in  so  momentous  a  subject, 
should  willingly  accept  as  true  a  series  of  absurd  fabri- 
cations, whose  falsehood  they  might  detect  by  the  ex* 
ercise  of  any  ordinary  acuteness,  and  should  risk  their 
reputation  with  the  world  by  professing  to  believe  these 
fictions.  If  we  are  sincere  in  our  faith,  it  is  impossible 
to  suppose  us  so  willing  to  be  imposed  upon.  The  hoi ' 
bwness  of  these  superaatm-al  pretensions  must  have 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


XXXIS 


betrayed  itself  to  sonie  aniong;st  us.  The  bubble  must 
have  burst  somewhei'e.  If  not  at  Rome,  where  Protest- 
ants imagine  Catiiolic  intellect  to  be  at  its  lowest  ebb, 
at  least  in  Eng-land,  or  France,  or  Belgium,  or  Ger- 
many, some  of  our  great  Catholic  philosophers,  histo- 
rians, politicians,  and  men  of  science,  must  have  unveiled 
the  tnith.* 

And,  secondly,  I  desire  to  be  told  who  are  the  de- 
ceivers. If  om'  numerous  miracles  ai'e  all  erroi's,  there 
must  be  gross  deception  in  a  host  of  instances  some- 
where. Where  is  it,  then  ?  I  ask ;  which  are  the  dupes, 
and  which  the  rogues?  Do  the  clergy  cheat  the  laity? 
Or  do  the  laity  (who  have  quite  as  much  to  do  with 
these  miracles)  cheat  the  clergy?  Do  the  Jesuits  en- 
trap the  Pope?  Or  does  the  Pope  mystify  the  Jesuits? 
When  missionaries  shed  their  blood  in  hundreds  in  hea- 
then lands,  are  we  to  believe  that  they  are  the  fabri- 
cators of  the  wonderful  tales  which  they  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  sending  home  to  Christendom?  Or  did 
they  leave  Europe  with  the  intention  of  becoming  mar- 


*  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  the  most  celebrated  work  on. 
the  supernatural  gifts  accorded  by  God  to  Christians,  is  the 
production  of  one  of  the  greatest  intellects,  and  by  far  the 
most  influential  political  writer,  that  modern  Europe  has  seen. 
Gorres,  the  author  of  the  Christliche  Mystih,  was  the  Wel- 
lington of  literature  during  the  last  European  war.  The  influ- 
ence which  he  exercised  over  the  whole  German  mind  by  his 
Rhenish  Mercury  is  altogether  without  parallel  in  the  history 
of  journalism.  It  was,  indeed,  regarded  as  so  formidable  by 
Napoleon  himself,  that  he  styled  Gorres  a  fourth  continental 
power.  Yet  this  first  of  publicists  devoted  his  whole  life  to  the 
investigation  of  the  wonders  of  Catholic  mysticism,  and  believed 
rith  UD  doubting  conviction  in  their  reclity. 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAT 


tyrs,  without  troubling  themselves  to  050611:0111  whether 
they  were  not  the  dupes  of  delusions  already  surround- 
ing' them  in  a  Christian  land?  Again  I  say,  if  Catholic 
mii-acles  are  all  false,  there  must  be  boundless  trickery 
somemherey  and  I  demand  to  know  where  it  is.  In  an 
English  coui't  of  justice  a  chai'ge  of  conspiracy  cannot 
be  entertained  unless  the  accuser  can  point  out  certain 
parties  on  whom  to  fasten  his  charge.  Judge  and  jury 
would  laugh  at  a  plaintiff  who  came  into  court  crying 
out  that  he  was  victimised  by  some  invisible,  inde- 
scribable, and  unknown,  but  yet  very  numerous  band  of 
foes.  So  it  is  with  this  popular  theory  about  Catholic 
miracles.  We  are  told  tnat  we  are  deceived.  We  are 
all  cheated  together.  The  bishops  are  victims;  the 
priests  are  victims ;  monks  and  nuns  are  victims ;  the 
laity  are  victims ;  the  old  Catholics  in  England  are  vic« 
tims ;  the  converts  are  victims ;  the  best  of  us  all  are 
victims;  the  most  learned,  the  most  pious,  the  most 
able,  the  most  self-denying, — all  these  are  dupes.  If 
there  are  deceivers,  they  are  the  few,  the  ignorant,  the 
cunning,  and  the  vile.  The  Roman  Church,  as  a  Church, 
is  supposed  to  be  under  the  dominion  of  a  band  of  con- 
spirators, who  have  blinded  her  oyes  without  her  having 
found  it  out,  and  who  are  now  using  her  for  their  own 
godless  purposes.  Does  not  such  a  supposition  confute 
itself?  Is  it  worth  admitting,  even  as  an  hypothesis? 
Would  such  a  statement  be  endured  for  a  moment  by  a 
judge  and  twelve  men  in  a  jury-box  ?  I  say,  therefore, 
before  moving  a  step  to  overthrow  the  Protestant  accu- 
sation, '^  Make  a  distinct  and  intelligible  charge  of  cer- 
tain definite  crimes  against  certain  definite  individuals. 
When  that  is  done,  the  proof  still  remains  with  you. 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


xU 


Snow  lis  both  who  are  the  deceivers,  and  how  they  de- 
ceive us ;  or  admit  that  there  is  no  creduUty  so  open- 
mouthed  as  that  of  Protestants  when  thev  attack  Ca- 
tholics ;  no  superstition  so  hase  as  that  which  worships 
this  visible  order  of  natui'e  as  an  eternal  rule  which  not 
even  God  Himself  can  ever  interrupt." 

The  fact  is,  however,  that  no  Protestant  ever  at- 
tempts any  thing  like  a  profound  investigation  of  the 
Gathohc  miracles.  A  calm,  critical,  and  judicial  inquu-y 
into  the  worth  of  the  Homan  process  of  canonisation 
has  never  been  risk  .i.  Here  is  an  enormous  catalogue 
of  incidents,  whose  supernatural  character  is  vouched 
for  by  the  decrees  of  a  long  series  of  Popes,  proff.iedly 
based  upon  the  most  prolonged  and  anxious  legal  exa- 
mination. For  centuries  a  tribunal  has  been  declaring 
that  one  &  )ries  of  miracles  after  another  has  come  before 
it;  that  it  has  weighed  them  all  with  the  utmost  care ; 
that  it  has  heard  every  thing  that  could  be  urged  against 
them ;  that  it  has  rejected,  as  not  proved,  a  very  large 
number ;  and  that,  after  the  most  searching  inquiry,  it 
has  found  such  and  such  supernatural  incidents  to  be 
established  by  every  law  of  human  evidence.*  No  man 
can  look  at  the  processes  of  the  canonisation  of  Catholic 
Saints  without  admitting  that  very  few  of  those  secular 
events  which  we  unhesitatingly  beheve  are  supported 
by  so  overwhelming  a  weight  of  proof.  Men's  fortunes 
and  lives  are  incessantly  taken  away  by  law  at  our  very 
doors  on  lower  degrees  of  evidence,  and  no  one  exclaims. 
And  yet  the  decisions  of  this  Catholic  tribunal  are  set 

*  For  the  steps  followed  in  the  processes  of  canonisation,  sen 
Faber^s  Essay  on  Beatification^  Cammimitionf  and  the  Processes 
qfdte  Congregation  ofliitet. 


xlii 


IJTRODUCTOnV  ESSAY. 


aside  without  hesitation.  People  tliink  tliem  not  even 
worthy  of  listening*  to.  The  whole  affair  they  count  a 
childish  trifling ;  and  with  a  shmg  or  a  sneer  they  ptwss 
it  by. 

And  it  is  the  same  with  those  miracles  which  have 
not  been  brought  before  any  such  high  tribunal,  but 
whiijh  rest  on  undeniable  private  evidence.  Those  who 
are  not  Catholicis  put  tUt  m  aside  simply  as  incredible. 
They  assume  that  thdy  cannot  be  true,  and  therefore 
that  they  are  not  true.  Press  them  in  argument,  and 
they  will  shirk  your  most  stringent  proofs.  You  can 
make  no  impression  upon  their  wilh.  They  will  be« 
lieve  any  thing  but  that  God  has  intemipted  the  course 
of  nature  in  favour  of  any  one  but  themselves.  In 
short,  if  we  wish  to  see  himian  reason  in  its  most  irra- 
tional mood,  we  have  but  to  enter  into  conversation 
with  a  Protestant  who  asserts  and  thinks  that  he  be 
lieves  the  Bible  miracles  to  be  true,  and  urge  upon  him 
the  proofs  of  such  modem  mimcles  as  are  i*ecorded  of 
St.  Frances  of  Rome.  You  will  perceive  firet,  that  though 
he  has  made  up  his  mind  on  the  subject  with  imbesitat- 
ing  dogmatism,  he  has  never  investigated  its  bearings 
or  facts,  even  in  outline.  Nevertheless,  to  your  sui-prise, 
you  will  find  him  perfectly  ready  to  start  some  random 
theory,  at  a  moment's  notice,  unconscious  of  the  mo- 
mentous, the  awful  nature  of  the  matter  he  is  handling. 
You  see,  perhaps,  that  his  mind  is  powerfully  influenced 
%y  the  singular  character  of  many  Cathohc  mii'acles. 
He  thinks  thom  strange,  unnecessary,  unaccountable, 
absurd,  disgusting,  degrading.  His  nervous  sensibi- 
lities are  shocked  by  an  account  oi  the  fearful  pangs 
accompanying  the  stigmata.     In  the  phenomena  of 


MIUACULOUS  LIFE  OP  THE  SAINTS. 


xliii 


ecstasy  he  can  see  nothing  more  than  the  raving-s  of 
deUrium,  or  (if  he  believes  in  mesmerism)  than  the  tales 
of  a  clairvoyante,  and  the  rigidity  of  catalepsy.  His 
physical  frame,  accustomed  to  its  routine  of  breakfast, 
luncheon,  and  dinner,  its  sofas  and  easy-chairs,  and  its 
luxiu'ious  bed,  shudders  at  the  thought  of  the  self-in- 
flicted penances  of  the  Saints,  and  at  the  idea  of  God's 
bestowing  a  miraculoui^  ver  of  enduiing  such  hoiTors. 
He  would  be  as  much  surprised  to  be  told  that  Smith- 
field  was  literally  the  abode  of  incarnate  demons,  as  to 
hear  that  demons  have  often  assumed  the  shapes  of 
beasts  and  monstera  in  their  conflicts  with  the  elect. 
The  notion  that  an  angel  might  visibly  appear  to  a 
pious  traveller  on  the  Great  Western  or  Birmingham 
railroad,  and  protect  him  from  death  in  a  frightful  col- 
lision of  ti-ains,  makes  him  open  his  eyes  and  contem- 
plate you  as  scarcely  sane  to  hint  at  such  a  thing. 
That  "  the  Virgin,"  as  he  calls  her,  should  come  down 
from  heaven  and  enter  a  church  or  a  room,  and  hold  a 
conversation  with  living  men,  women,  or  children  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  give  them  a  trumpery  medal, 
or  tell  them  to  wear  a  piece  of  cloth  round  their  neck, 
or  cure  them  of  some  disease,  he  regards  about  as  likely 
imd  rational  as  that  the  stories  in  the  Arabian  Nights 
and  the  Fairy  Tales  should  turn  out  to  be  tme  his- 
tories. Be  as  serious  as  you  please,  bo  simply  laughs 
in  his  sleeve,  thinking  to  himself,  "  Well,  who  would 
have  believed  that  the  intellect  of  an  educated  English- 
man should  submit  itself  to  such  drivelling  as  this  ?" 

Perceiving  tnat  this  is  the  state  of  his  wind,  you 
open  the  Bible,  which  lies,  handsomely  bound,  upon  his 
table,  and  limning  rapidly  through  the  four  Gospels 


zli? 


INTRODUCTOHY  ESSAY. 


and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  point  out  to  him  a  long 
series  of  supernatural  events  there  rv<?corded  j  and  show 
him  that  in  theii*  nature  they  are  jjreciseiy  the  same  as 
those  modem  miracles  which  provoke  his  disgust  or 
contempt.     You  remind  him,  first  of  all,  that  om*  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  Head  of  the  Church,  and  that  all  His 
people  are  made  lilte  Hinij  in  His  life  and  His  sufiering^, 
as  well  as  in  His  glory ;  and  then  proceed  to  your  sum- 
mary.    He  accounts  the  penances  of  Saints  needless 
and  impossible ;  you  remind  him  of  our  blessed  Lord's 
fast  of  forty  days  and  forty  nights.     He  is  honw- 
struck  at  the  details  of  the  sufferings  of  those  in  whom 
the  Passion  of  Christ  has  been  visibly  renewed;  you 
beg  him  to  attempt  to  realise  the  bloody  sweat  in  the 
Garden  of  Olives.     He  speaks  of  mesmerism  and  clair- 
voyance, and  derides  the  the  tight  cf  a  Saint's  being 
illuminated  with  radiant  light,  or  exhaling  a  fragrant 
odour ;  you  ask  him  how  he  explains  away  the  trans- 
figuration of  Jesus.    He  says  that  it  is  physically  im- 
possible that  a  man's  body  can  be  (as  he  expresses  it) 
in  two  places  at  once ;  you  desire  him  to  say  by  whajb 
law  of  nature  our  Lord  entered  the  room  where  the  dis- 
ciples were  when  the  doors  were  shut;  how  St.  Peter 
was  delivered  fi'om  chains  and  imprisonment  by  the 
angel ;  how  St.  Paul  was  rapt  into  the  third  heaven, 
rvJietJier  in  tJie  body  or  out  of  tlie  hody,  he  could  not 
tell.    He  says  that  when  a  Saint  has  thought  himself 
attacked  by  devils  in  hideous  shapes,  his  brain  has  been 
diseased;  you  entreat  him  to  bewere  of  throwing  a  doubt 
on  the  temptation  of  Jesus  Christ  by  Satan  in  the  wil- 
deniess.  He  pities  you  for  believing  that  the  Mother  of 
God  has  appeared  for  such  needless  purposes  to  excited 


t:,'w^ 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


Z]f 


devotees  j  you  ask  him  why  the  3on  of  God  appeared 
long  after  His  death  and  ascension  to  St.  Paul,  and  told 
him  what  he  iniglit  have  leanit  in  a  natural  way  from 
the  other  Apostles.  He  calls  your  mimculous  relics 
childish  tnimpery ;  you  ask  whether  the  handkerchiefs 
and  aprons  which  cured  the  sick,  after  having  touched 
St.  Paul's  body,  were  tinimpery  also ;  and  whether  St. 
Luke  is  countenancmg"  superstition  when  he  relates  how 
the  people  crowded  near  St.  Peter  to  be  healed  by  his 
very  shadow  passing  over  them.  Then,  as  he  feels  the 
oveiwhelming"  force  of  your  rebukes,  he  insinuates  that 
there  is  something  divine,  something  evidently  touch- 
ing, pure,  and  strict  in  morality  in  the  Bible  narratives, 
which  is  wantmg  in  these  lives  of  Catholic  Saints ;  and 
you  refer  him  to  such  biographies  as  that  of  St.  Frances 
of  Home,  and  compelling  him  to  read  the  naiTatives  of 
her  revelations,  ask  him  if  all  that  she  says  when  in  a 
state  of  ecstasy  does  not  wear,  even  in  his  judgment, 
the  impress  of  a  Divine  origin,  and  seem  to  be  dictated 
by  the  God  of  all  pmnty,  humility,  and  love. 

At  length  your  opponent,  after  brief  pondering, 
changes  his  ground,  ari  asserts  that  you  are  youi-self 
deceived;  that  the  real  defect  in  Catholic  miraculous 
stories  is  the  want  of  evidence.  He  tells  you  that  he 
would  believe,  if  he  could;  but  that  you  have  not 
proved  your  point.  You  next  call  his  af.tention  to  the 
distinct  promise  'made  by  our  blessed  Lord  to  the 
Church,  that  miracles  should  always  continue  with 
her;  and  ask  him  how,  on  his  theory,  he  accounts  for 
the  non-fulfilment  of  this  promise.  You  desire  him  to 
lay  his  finger  on  the  epoch  when  its  fiilfilment  ceased ; 
and  not  only  to  assert  th&t  it  then  ceased;  but  to  prove 


xld 


INTRODUCTOHY  ESSAY. 


his  assertion.  He  says  nothing,  for  he  has  nothing  to 
say  which  he  can  even  attempt  to  prove ;  and  you  pro- 
ceed to  f  umisli  a  few  examples  of  miracles,  from  patris- 
tic, mediaeval,  or  modem  times,  or  perhaps  of  the  pre- 
sent day,  which  are  supported  by  at  least  as  cogent  an 
amount  of  evidence  as  the  historical  proof  of  the  Scrip- 
ture miracles.  You  insist  upon  his  disproving  these. 
He  cannot.  He  resorts  to  some  new  hypothesis.  He 
says  that  there  is  deception  somewhere,  though  he  can- 
not tell  where ;  and  probably  by  this  time  is  showing 
symptoms  of  a  wish  to  end  the  discussion.  You  ui'ge 
him  again,  and  press  him  to  give  an  intelligible  reason 
for  supposing  that  there  miist  be  deception  any  where. 
He  thinks  awhile;  and  when  at  length  you  are  looking 
for  a  rfitional  conclusion,  he  starts  backwards  to  his  old 
assumption  that  the  CathoUc  miracles  cannot  be  true. 
He  beg*s  the  whole  question,  and  says  that  they  are  in 
favour  of  Catholicism,  and  that  Catholicism  is  false. 
You  too  recur  to  your  old  reference  to  the  Bible,  and 
so  on.  And  thus  you  run  again  the  same  roimd ;  and 
you  may  run  it  a  thousand  times  over,  till  you  perceive 
that  there  is  but  one  ^eason  why  your  opponent  is  not 
convinced;  which  is,  that  he  will  not  be  convinced. 
And  thus  it  was  in  the  days  when  those  very  miracles 
were  wrought  which  Protestants  profess  to  beHeve. 
The  Jews  would  not  believe  om*  Lord's  words  and  doc- 
trines. He  then  bade  them  beHeve  Him  because  of 
His  mimcles ;  and  they  instantly  imputed  them  to  the 
power  of  the  devil.  He  showed  them  that  this  theoi/ 
was  impossible;  but,  so  far  from  being  convinced  and 
converted,  they  went  their  ways,  and  plotted  His  death. 
Now,  our  controversialists  camiot,  or  do  not  wish,  t(» 


MIRACULOUS  LIPE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


xlvii 


take  ftnrny  our  lives ;  but  wlien  not  a  word  is  left  them 
in  tlie  way  of  nr^iiment,  tliey  go  their  ways,  and  j)ro- 
test  to  their  fellows,  that  we  are  obstinate,  unfair,  su- 
pei-stitious,  and  insolent;  and  too  often  encourag-e  one 
another  in  the  bitterest  persecution  of  those  who  are 
convinced  by  our  reasoning's,  and  submit  to  the  Church. 

I  now  turn  to  the  objections  which  are  at  times  felt 
by  Catholics  themselves  to  the  publication  of  Saints' 
Lives,  abounding"  in  supernatural  incidents.  Such  per- 
sons are,  indeed,  not  numerous ;  and  their  number  is 
lapidly  diminishing.  Still  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted 
that  conscientious  Gatliolics  are  to  be  found  who  take 
the  view  1  am  speaking  of,  from  ideas  which,  though 
eiToneous  (as  T  believe),  are  yet  so  truly  founded  in  sin- 
cerity, as  to  demand  respect  and  explanation  from  those 
who  differ  fi*om  them. 

The  objections  they  raise  are  twofold.  First,  thoy 
allege  that  such  books  scandalise  Protestants  and  drive 
them  from  the  Church ;  and  secondly,  they  do  not  see 
horn  incidents,  wholly  unlike  our  ordinary  daily  ex- 
perience, can  practically  sei-ve  us  in  our  private  Chris- 
tian hves. 

To  the  idea  that  non-Catholics  are  thus  needlessly 
prejudiced  against  the  faith,  I  reply,  that  this  assertion 
is  wholly  unproved.  That  they  do,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
laugh  and  attack  such  biographies,  I  fully  admit;  but 
they  laugh  at  them  on  grounds  which  we  cannot  admit 
without  giving  up  the  Christ 'an  revelation  itself.  They 
scoff  at  them,  not  because  they  think  them  not  su|j- 
ported  by  credible  testimony,  but  because  they  are  not 
what  they  call  di^fied,  refined,  and  just  such  as  they 


xlviii 


INTHODUCTOHT  ESSAY. 


should  have  supposed  all  things  to  be  that  come  fi'om 
God.  That  such  a  temper  of  mind  is  indicative  of  pure 
Deism,  it  needs  no  words  to  prove.  A  man  who  derides 
ft  miraculous  event  merely  as  trijlingj  thereby  asseits 
that  he  himself  is  the  judge  of  what  is  great  and  what 
is  Uttle  in  the  sight  of  God.  He  lays  down  laws  for 
the  guidance  of  the  Almighty.  He  is  adopting  the 
identical  reasoning  of  professed  infidels,  who  on  this 
very  ground  reject  Christianity  itself.  And  it  is  ob- 
vious that  nothing  can  be  more  perilous  than  the  en- 
couragement of  so  fatal  a  principle  of  judgment.  Once 
let  the  acute  and  logical  Protestant  perceive  that  you 
move  one  step  backwards  in  deference  to  this  objection, 
and  he  will  press  you  with  fi'esh  consequences  of  the 
very  same  admission  until  he  lands  you  in  undisguised 
scepticism,  if  not  in  the  blackest  Atheism. 

Can  any  single  instance,  in  fact,  be  named  in  which 
a  mind  that  was  apparently  determined  to  seek  salva- 
tion at  all  costs,  has  been  actually  deterred  from  enter- 
ing the  Catholic  Church  by  meeting  with  these  exti-a- 
ordinary  histories  ?  Are  they  not  a  butt  for  determined 
and  obstinate  Protestants,  and  for  such  Protestants 
only  ?  Ask  any  convert  whether,  on  looking  back,  he 
can  say  that  the  knowledge  of  these  peculiarities  in 
Catholic  hagiology  ever  practically  held  him  back  for 
fom^and-twenty  houra  in  his  journey  towards  the 
Chiu'ch.  That  the  world  is  angry,  and  that  the  world 
vents  its  spleen  and  its  contempt  in  bitter  jests,  is  true 
enough  j  but  pions  souls  are  not  made  to  sin,  or  kept 
away  from  their  Saviour ^  by  any  thing  of  the  kind. 
And  that  the  rage  and  mocking  of  man  afford  not  the 
shghtest  reason  for  inducing  the  Church  to  turn  out  of 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THB  SAINTS. 


xlix 


Hei  natural  path,  I  sliall  not  dishonour  my  readers  hy 
attempting-  to  prove  to  them. 

That  it  is  her  natural  course  to  make  these  liistories 
puhlic,  for  the  practical  edification  of  her  children,  is 
clear  from  one  fact  alone, — they  are  precisely  parallel 
to  the  life  of  our  blessed  Lord,  as  narrated  in  the  four 
Gospels.  The  whole  question  resolves  itself  into  this : 
If  such  lives  as  that  of  St.  Frances,  and  many  othera 
recently  published  in  England,  are  not  edifying  to  the 
ordinary  Christian,  then  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  is  not 
edifying*.  The  Gospels,  as  well  as  the  Acts  of  the  Apos- 
tles and  the  Epistles,  must  be  rigorously  expurgated 
and  cut  down  to  the  type  of  the  common  domestic  hfo 
of  the  present  day.  Nothing  can  be  further  removed 
from  the  circumstances  of  most  men  than  the  recordo 
of  our  Lord's  mirar  les  and  supernatural  ac;:;3  in  general. 
What  has  the  temptation,  the  transfiguration,  the  driv- 
ing the  devils  into  the  swine,  the  turning  the  water  into 
wine  at  what  we  should  now  call  a  "wedding-breakfast," 
and,  in  fact,  almost  every  act  in  our  blessed  Lord's  Ufe, 
in  common  with  our  amusement,  onr  business,  our  so- 
ciety, our  whole  experience  ?  Yet,  to  say  that  a  devout 
soul  can  meditate  on  these  transcendently  mysterious 
events,  and  not  derive  from  them  practical  instruction 
to  enable  her  to  fulfil  her  little  trivial  earthly  duties 
with  Christian  perfection,  is  nothing  shoi-t  of  blasphemy. 
The  Son  of  God  incarnate,  all  glorious,  all  awful,  all 
unfathomable  as  He  was  even  in  the  days  of  His  sojoura- 
ing  on  earth,  was  yet  our  example,  our  model,  our  em- 
bodied series  of  precepts.  The  eye  of  the  simplest  re- 
generate child  cannot  be  turned  for  an  instant  upon  His 
Divine  glories  and  ineffable  sufferings  without  drawing 


1 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


light  therefrom  to  guide  it  even  in  its  play  with  its 
fellows,  or  in  the  most  trivial  of  the  duties  towards  its 
parents  and  teachers. 

And  such,  I  am  convinced,  is  the  experience  of  Catho- 
lics of  all  ranks,  of  every  age  and  every  degree  of  intel- 
lectual cultivaiion,  who  study  religiously  the  miraculous 
lives  of  the  Saints,  believing  them  to  be,  on  the  whole, 
correct  histories.  It  is  not  needful  that  they  should  re- 
gard them  to  be  literally  true  in  all  their  details,  as  the 
Bible  is  true.  We  liave  but  to  regard  them  as  we  regard 
other  authentic  hitman  narratives,  with  the  addition  of 
that  veneration  and  confidence  which  is  due  to  such 
portions  of  t>rem  as  have  been  formally  sanctioned  by 
the  Church,  to  derive  from  them  unceasing  spiritual 
comfort  and  instruction.  Doubtless,  if  we  are  so  igno- 
rant as  to  fancy  that  all  Saints'  histories  are  to  b'  alike 
in  details,  and  that  therefore  we  ought  to  wish  that  the 
circumstances  of  our  Uves  were  the  same  as  theu's,  we 
shall  be  doing  ourselves  great  mischief.  But  let  us 
study  them  with  a  true  knowledge  of  the  mere  elements 
of  the  Christian  faith,  and  they  will  be  to  us  what  St. 
Paul  desires  his  disciples  to  seek  for  in  his  life,  namely, 
a  continuation,  as  it  were,  of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ, 
carried  on  through  all  the  successive  ages  of  His  Church 
on  earth.  They  will  impress  upon  our  minds  with  an 
intensity  peculiarly  their  own,  the  reality  of  the  in- 
visible world  and  the  ensnaring  tendencies  of  every 
thing  that  we  possess.  Weak  and  ignoiimt  as  is  the 
imaginative  and  sensitive  portion  of  our  nature,  it  needs 
every  possible  help  that  it  can  find  to  coimtei'act  the 
paralysing  effects  of  the  worldliness  of  the  world,  of 
the  lukewarmness  of  Christians,  and  of  the  enthralling 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


y 


nature  of  the  universe  of  sight  and  sense.  Our  courage 
IS  wonderfiilly  strengthened,  and  our  love  for  things 
invisible  is  inflamed,  by  every  thing  that  forces  us,  as 
it  were,  to  see  that  this  visible  creation  is  not  the  only 
tiling  that  is  real,  mighty,  and  present.  The  general 
precepts  and  the  dogmatic  statements  of  religion  acquire 
a  singulai*  and  living  force  when  we  perceive  them 
carried  out  and  realised  in  the  actual  aifairs  of  life  in  a 
degree  to  which  our  personal  experience  is  a  stranger. 
Influenced  as  human  natm'e  is  by  example,  these  un- 
pretending narratives,  whose  whole  strangth  lies  in  the 
facts  which  they  record,  and  not  in  the  art  of  the  bio- 
grapher, undeniably  strike  the  mind  with  an  almost 
supernatural  force.  They  enchain  the  attention ;  they 
compel  us  to  say,  Are  these  things  true?  Are  these 
things  possible  ?  Is  religion,  after  all,  so  tenibly  near 
to  us?  Are  this  life  and  this  world  so  literally  vain 
and  worthless,  so  absolutely  nothing  worth  ?  Are  suf- 
fering and  awful  bodily  anguish  blessings  to  be  really 
coveted  ?  Are  the  maxims  which  I  daily  hear  around 
me  so  hopelessly  bad  and  accui-sed  ?  Are  angels  and 
devils  so  near,  so  vei-y  near,  to  us  all  ?  Is  purg-atory 
so  terrible  and  so  inevitable  to  all  but  the  perfect,  that 
these  fearful  visions  of  its  pains  are  in  substance  what 
I  myself  shall  endure  ?  And  if  I  full  from  grace  and 
die  in  sin  before  one  of  the  innumerable  temptations 
that  hourly  beset  me,  is  it  tnie  that  nothing  less  than 
an  eternity  of  such  toniients,  the  very  reading  of  which 
even  thus  represented  makes  me  shudder  with  horror, 
will  be  my  inevitable  lot  ?  And  is  the  bliss  of  tlie 
Saints  and  the  joy  of  loving  God  so  inexpressibly  sweet 
to  any  souls  here  on  eai-th  ?    Is  it  possible  that  anjp 


lii 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


one  should  escape  from  a  state  of  coldness,  deadness, 
worldliness,  and  unwilling  performance  of  his  religious 
duties,  and  positively  come  to  lose  all  taste  for  bodily 
and  mei*e  intellectual  pleasures  through  the  absorbing 
of  his  whole  being  into  the  love  of  Jesus  and  of  Mary, 
and  through  a  burning  thirst  for  the  beatific  vision  of 
the  Eternal  Trinity  ? 

And  who  will  venture  to  say  that  it  is  not  good^/Jw 
vs  all  to  have  such  thoughts  frequently  pressed  upon 
our  attention  ?  If  there  is  any  meaning  in  the  command 
that  we  are  to  aim  at  being  perfect,  whatever  be  the 
state  of  life  in  which  we  are  called  to  seek  perfection, 
siu'ely  it  is  no  ordinary  advantage  thus  to  have  the 
essentially  supernatural  chp  meter  of  our  religfious  life 
forced  again  and  again  upon  our  attenvion.  For,  be  it 
never  forgotten,  this  very  svpematuralness  is  one  of  its 
essential  features.  There  are  innumerable  varieties  in 
our  vocations.  The  eai-tlily  circumstances  in  which  we 
ai'e  to  serve  God  are  almost  innumerable  in  their  variety ; 
but  the  supernatural  element  appertains  to  them  all 
alike.  Our  actual  relationship  to  the  awful  and  glorious 
realities  of  the  unseen  world  is  precisely  the  same  in 
kind  as  that  of  the  most  miraculously  endowed  Saints. 
The  only  difference  is  this,  that  in  their  case  that  re- 
lationship was  perceived  and  visibly  manifested  in  a 
peculiar  mode,  to  which  we  are  strangers.  Heaven, 
purgatory,  and  hell  are  as  neai'  to  us  as  if  we  beheld 
the  vision3  of  St.  Frances.  The  cross  is  as  literally  our 
portion,  in  its  essential  nature,  as  if  the  five  sacred 
wounds  were  renewed  physically  in  our  agonising  frame. 
Our  angel-guardian  is  as  incessontly  by  our  side,  as  if 
our  eyes  were  opened  to  behold  his  efiiilgent  radif  Jioe. 


MIRACULOUS  LIFE  OP  THE  SAINTS. 


liii 


Satan  strikes  the  same  blows  at  our  souls,  whetk  -'  he 
shows  himself  to  our  sight  or  not.  The  relics  of  &  nts, 
which  we  carefully  look  at  or  criticise,  may  he  at  any 
moment  the  vehicles  of  the  same  miraculous  poweis  as 
the  handkerchiefs  from  the  body  of  St.  Paul.  Who 
would  say  to  a  blind  man, ''  Forget  the  tangible  reali- 
ties of  this  life,  because  you  cannot  see  them"  ?  Who 
would  not  rather  say,  "  Bear  constantly  in  mind  ▼'hat 
is  the  experience  of  those  who  can  see,  that  you  May 
practically  remember  their  ceaseless  nearness  to  yoa"  ? 
And  just  such  is  the  experience  of  the  Saints,  in  whose 
histories  faith  has  partly  merged  into  sight,  and  the 
veil  which  blinds  our  eyes  has  been  parti&lly  and  at 
certain  seasons  withdrawn.  It  tells  us,  as  few  things 
else  can  tell,  of  the  reality  of  the  objects  of  our  faith. 

I  add  a  word  or  two  on  the  question,  how  far  the 
actual  conduct  of  the  extraordinary  persons  whose  lives 
are  iiere  related  is  to  serve  as  a  model  for  practical 
imitation  by  ordinary  Christians.  To  the  well-instructed 
Catholic,  it  would  be  an  impertinence  in  me  to  suggest 
that  they  are  not  in  every  detail  thus  to  be  followed. 
It  is  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  follow  the  mles  for  daily 
life  which  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  to  lay  down 
in  the  Gospel,  and  not  to  imagine  that  those  excep> 
tional  cases  of  conduct  to  which  He  has  supernatural! 
prompted  ceriiun  individuals  are  to  be  imitated  by  tho&< 
who  have  only  the  ordinary  graces  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

The  general  reader,  however,  may  be  reminded  th* « 
Catholics  believe,  that  as  the  Creator  of  the  univerjO 
occasionally  intemipts  the  order  of  the  laws  of  nature, 
so  He  at  times  inteniipts  the  relative  order  of  the  laws 
of  duty;  not,  of  course,  the  essential  laws  of  morality,  but 


Br 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 


those  positive  laws  which  are  obligatory  simplj  because 
they  are  enacted  by  competent  authority.  No  person, 
indeed,  can  be  justified  in  acting  on  such  an  idea  in  his 
own  case,  unless  guided  by  supernatural  light,  beyond 
the  usual  spiritual  illumination  given  to  all  Christians. 
This  supernatural  light  is  rarely  vouchsafed,  and  it  is 
accordingly  in  the  highest  degree  presumptuous  in  any 
person  to  overstep  the  ordinary  routine  of  distinctly 
ordered  duty,  under  the  idea  that  he  is  called  by  Grod 
to  break  the  rules  given  for  the  guidance  of  mankind 
in  general.  In  all  such  supposed  cases,  the  Catholic 
Church  has  the  proper  tests  to  apply,  by  which  the 
soul  can  learn  whether  she  is  led  by  a  Divine  afflatus, 
or  betrayed  by  her  own  disordered  imagination,  or  the 
dcobits  of  an  invisible  tempter. 

J.  M.  a 


CONTENTS. 


-oc>vS)ttlA»- 


ST.  FB  ANCES  OF  BOMB. 


OhaI*ter  I.        '      ■    ' 

Ckmeral  character  of  the  Saint's  lifo— Her  childhood  and  early 
piety         .        


VAoa 

1 


CHAPTER  II. 

Franoesoa's  early  inclination  for  the  cloister — ^By  her  father's 
desire  she  marries  Lorenzo  Pon/iano — Her  married  life 
—Her  illness  and  miracolous  cnre 


CHAPTER  III. 

iVancesoa  proceeds  in  her  mortifioationa  and  vrorks  of  ohaci^ 
—Her  supematoral  temptations  and  consolations     .        . 


18 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Ulih  of  Francesca^s  first  child— Her  care  In  his  ednoa- 
tion— She  midertakes  the  management  of  her  father-in- 
law's  household — A  famine  and  pestilonce  in  Rome — E^n- 
oesca's  labours  for  the  sick  and  poor — The  miracles  wrought 
in  her  behalf «        • 


28 


vU 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  birth  of  Franoesoa'a  seoond  ion — His  suiiernatiiral  gifts 
— The  birth  of  her  daughter— Satanic  attacks  upon  Fran* 
oesca—  Troubles  of  Tiome— Francesca's  fausbaad  is  severely 
wounded — Her  eldest  son,  when  given  up  as  a  hostage 
to  the  Neapolitans,  is  miraculously  restored  to  her   .       . 


VAOB 


87 


.    CHAPTER  VI. 

Sufferings  of  Rome  from  the  troops  of  Tadislas — Death  of 
Francesca's  son  Evangelista — ^The  famine  and  plagiie  in 
Rome — Francesca's  labours  for  the  starving  and  sick— Her 
miracles 


47 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

Evangelista  appears  to  bis  mother — An  archangel  is  assigned 
to  her  as  a  visible  guardian  throughout  her  life         .       • 


59 


CHAPTER  Vin. 


Fr'^ncesca's  illness  and  recovery — Her  vision  <>f  hell — Resto- 
ration of  tranquillity  in  Rome— Return  of  Francesca's  hus- 
band— Her  power  in  converting  sinners    .       •       .       • 


64 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Fresh  supemu'^ural  events  in  Francesca's  history— Her  obe> 
dience  to  her  husband  and  to  her  confessor  rewarded  by 
two  miracles — Marriage  of  her  son,  and  ill  conduct  of  his 
wife — Her  conversion  through  Fra  tcesca's  prayers — Fresh 
Miracles  worked  by  Francesca  .••••• 


74 


OONTBNTi. 


CHAPTER  X. 


ffA«B 


yhmoMoa  lays  the  foundation  of  her  fiitare  oongregatkm— 

Her  pilgrimage  to  Asdal 85 


CHAPTER  XL 

Death  of  Franoesoa*8  friend  and  director,  Don  Antonio^ 
Troubles  in  Rome  and  Italy  foretold  by  Franoeecar— Death 
of  Vaiinona,  Franceiica's  sister-in-law — Foundation  of  the 
Congregation  of  OUates  of  Tor  diSpecchi        .       •       . 


M 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Progress  and  trials  of  the  young  oommtmity — It  is  confirmed 
by  the  Pope — Troubles  in  Rome  and  the  Church  termi- 
nated through  Franoesoa's  intercession  and  the  council  of 
FlovMoo 106 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

Death  of  F^raneesca's  husband— She  goes  to  redde  with  the 

eommunity  <^  Tor  di  Speoohi— Her  life  as  superioress      •      114 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Franecsca's  last  ShiesB  and  death  .       . 


iZtf 


CHAPTER  XV. 
FhaMeasa's  fimenl,  and  her  sabsequenfc  eanonisatioa   •       •     181 


OONTENTSk 


n. 


Blbkbd  Ltjot  or  NAsm 


188 


m. 
DoinmoA  or  Pabadibo  .      •      .      • 


161 


IV. 


AmHB  ]»  MOVTMOBENOT,  THX  SOUTABT  or  TBB  PTBSKIM    •    197 


I.         •         > 


188 


61 


VI 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME: 


I! 


■4  •' 


ill 


m 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

miKRAL  CBAEACTKR  OF  THE  SAlNT^S  LIFE — HBR  CHILDHOOD  AMB 

EARLT  PIKTT. 


HERE  have  been   saints  whose 
hisvories  strike  us  as  particularly 
beautiful,  not  only  as  possessing 
the  boauty  which  always  belongs 
to  sanctity,  whether  exhibited  in  an 
aged  servant  of  God,  who  for  three- 
scoro  years  and  more  has  borne  the 
heat  and  burden  of  the  day,   or  in 
the  youth  who  has  offei*ed  up  the 
morning  of  his  life  to  His  Maker,  and 
yielded  it   into    His   hands    before 
twenty  summera   have  passed  over 
his  head  ;  whether  in  a  warrior  king 
like  St.  Louis,  or  a  beggar  like  Bene- 
dict Labre,  or  a  royal  lady  like  S;> 

B 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  HOME. 


Elizahfith  of  ITungTiry ;  hut  also  ns  uniting  in  tliu  cir- 
cumstftnces  of  their  Hves,  in  the  places  they  inha- 
hited,  and  the  epochs  when  they  appeared  in  the  work!, 
mncli  that  is  in  itself  poetical  and  interest  in"*,  and  cal- 
culated to  attract  the  attention  of  the  historian  and  the 
man  of  letters,  as  well  as  of  the  theoloj^iiin  and  the 
devout.  In  this  class  of  saints  may  well  he  included 
Francesca  Romana,  the  foundress  ot  the  religfious  order 
of  the  Oblates  of  Tor  di  Sj)ecchi.  She  was  the  mode) 
of  young  girls,  the  example  of  a  devout  matron,  and 
finally  a  widow,  according*  to  the  very  pattei-n  drawn 
by  St.  Paul;  she  was  beautiful,  courageous,  and  full 
of  wisdom,  nobly  bom,  and  delicately  brought  up : 
Home  was  the  place  of  her  birth,  and  the  scene  of  her 
labours;  her  home  was  in  tlie  centre  of  the  great  city, 
in  the  heart  of  the  'J'rastevere ;  her  life  was  full  of 
trials  and  hair-breadth  scapes,  and  strange  reverses; 
Iier  hidden  life  was  marvellous  in  the  extreme :  visions 
of  terror  ond  of  beauty  followed  her  all  her  days; 
favours  such  as  were  never  granted  to  any  other  saint 
were  vouchsafed  to  her ;  the  world  of  spirits  was  con- 
tinually thrown  oi)en  to  her  sight ;  and  yet,  in  her  daily 
conduct,  her  character  and  her  ways,  minute  details  of 
which  have  reached  us,  there  is  a  simplicity  as  well  as 
a  deep  humility,  awful  in  one  so  highly  gifted,  touch- 
ing in  one  so  highly  favoured. 

Troubled  and  wild  were  the  times  she  lived  in ;  per- 
haps if  one  had  to  point  out  a  period  in  which  a  Catho- 
lic Christian  would  rather  not  have  had  his  lot  cast, — 
one  in  which  there  was  most  to  try  his  faith  and  wound 
his  feelings,  he  would  name  the  end  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth.  War  was 
raging  all  over  Europe ;  Italy  was  torn  by  inward  dis- 
sensions, by  the  rival  factions  of  the  Guelphs  and  the 
Ghibellines.  So  savage  was  the  spirit  with  which  their 
conflicts  were  can-ied  on,  that  barbarism  seemed  once 
more  about  to  .overspread  that  fair  land,  and  the  Church 
itself  was  afflicted  not  only  by  the  outward  pei-secutions 
which  strengthen  its  vitality,  though  for  a  while  they 


- 


/  I 


en. !.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


t 


may  appear  to  cripple  its  action,  but  by  trials  of  a  fur 
deeper  and  more  painfid  natura.  Heresy  bud  torn  frum 
Iier  arms  a  great  number  of  her  children,  and  i-epeuted 
schisms  wera  dividing'  those  who,  in  np()earance  and 
even  in  intention,  remained  faithful  to  the  Holy  See. 
'Hie  siiccfssore  of  St.  Peter  had  removed  the  seat  of 
their  residence  to  Avignon,  and  tiie  Eternal  City  i)ro- 
scnted  the  aspect  of  one  vast  battle-tield,  on  which 
daily  and  hourly  conflicts  ware  occumng.  The  Colon- 
nas,  the  Orsinis,  the  Savellis,  were  every  instant  en- 
gaged in  stniggles  which  deluged  the  streets  witii 
bloo<l,  and  cut  oil'  many  of  her  );iti£ens  in  the  Hower  of 
their  age ;  sti-angei-s  were  also  continually  invading  the 
heritage  of  tlie  Church,  and  deseci-ated  Rome  with  mas- 
sacres and  outi-ages  scarcely  less  deplorable*  than  those 
of  the  I  Inns  and  the  Vandals.  In  the  capital  of  the 
Christian  world,  iiiins  of  recent  dat<*  lay  side  by  side 
with  the  relics  of  pjist  ages ;  the  churcher-  were  sacked, 
buiTied,  and  destroyed ;  the  solitary  and  indestinictible 
basilicas  stood  almost  alone,  mournfully  erect  amidst 
these  scenes  of  carnage  and  gloom ;  and  the  eyes  of  the 
people  of  Rome  were  wistfully  directed  tor,  ards  that 
tut«lary  jiower,  vv  liich  htt«  ever  been  to  them  a  pledge 
of  prosjierity  and  peace,  and  whose  removal  the  signid 
of  war  and  of  miserv. 

It  was  at  that  time,  during  the  Pontificate  of  Urban 
VI.,  in  the  year  1384,  that  Francesca  was  bom  at 
Rome ;  that  **  she  rose  as  a  star  in  a  dark  night," 
according  to  the  expi'ession  of  the  most  ancient  of  her 
biogi*aphers.  Her  father's  name  was  Paul  Bussa ;  her 
mother's  Jacobella  de'  Roffredeschi ;  they  were  both  of 
noble  and  even  illustrious  descent,  and  closely  allied  to 
the  Orsinis,  the  Savellis,  and  the  Mellinis.  On  the  day 
of  her  birth  she  was  carried  to  the  church  of  Santa 
Agnese,  in  the  Piazza  Navona,  and  there  baptised. 
Little  could  the  woi-shippers  who  may  have  been  pray- 
ing there  that  day  for  a  blessing  on  their,  bereaved  and 
distracted  city,  have  guessed  in  what  form  that  blessing 
was  bestowed,  and  that  that  little  babe,  a  few  hours 


6T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


old,  was  to  prove  a  most  powerful  instrument  in  tha 
hands  of  God  for  the  extinction  of  schism,  the  revival 
of  piety,  and  the  return  of  peace. 

From  her  infancy,  Francesca  was  not  like  other 
children.  Her  mother,  when  she  held  her  in  her  arms 
or  hushed  her  to  sleep  on  her  knee,  had  always  an  in- 
voluntary feeling  of  revei-ence  for  her  little  daug-hter ;  it 
was  as  if  an  angel  of  God,  not  an  earthly  child,  had 
Deen  lent  her;  a  heavenly  expression  shone  in  her 
eyes,  and  the  calm  serenity  of  her  infant  features  struck 
all  who  approached  her  with  admiration.  Francesca 
learned  to  read  at  the  same  time  that  she  hegan  to 
speak;  the  first  words  she  was  taught  to  utter  were 
toe  sacred  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary ;  at  her  mother's 
kcee  she  lisped  the  Little  Office  of  tne  Blessed  Virgin, 
and  during  the  whole  course  of  her  life  she  n^n'cr 
omitted  tiiat  practice. 

At  two  or  three  years  old  she  had  the  sense  and 
inteUigence  of  a  grown-uu  person;  an  extraordinary 
piety  revealed  itself  in  all  ner  words  and  actions.  She 
never  played  like  other  children;  but  when  left  to  her- 
self would  often  retire  into  silent  comers  of  her  father's 

her  little  hands 


lom 


m 


palace,  and  kneeling  down,  ji 
prayer ;  and  lifting  up  her  infant  heart  to  God,  would 
read  a  devout  book,  or  repeat  hymns  to  the  Blessed 
\  ii^^,  her  own  dear  mottier  as  she  used  to  call  her. 
Silence  ai  peai-ed  to  be  the  delight  of  this  young  child — 
the  deepest  reserve  and  modesty  an  instinct  with  her. 
At  the  age  of  six  years  the  practices  of  the  saints  were 
already  famihar  to  her.  She  had  left  off  eating  meat, 
eg^,  or  sweets  of  any  description,  and  lived  on  plainly 
boiled  vegetables  and  bread.  The  necessity  of  eating 
at  all  seemed  irksome  to  her,  and  she  never  drank  any 
thing  but  pure  water.  Then  also  had  begun  her  un- 
wearied study  of  the  lives  of  holy  women,  and  especially 
of  the  virgin  mart:}Ts  who  have  shed  their  blood  for  the 
love  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  Sacrap>ent  of  Confirmation, 
which  she  received  at  that  time  in  tlie  church  of  Santa 
Agnese,  the  same  in  wliich  she  had  been  baptised,  filled 


# 


:n.  I 


] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


i 


her  with  ardour  to  show  her  love  for  her  Lord  by  every 
imaginable  means,  even  those  the  most  painful  to  the 
flesh. 

Her  mother  was  a  veiy  devout  person,  and  in  the 
habit  of  visiting"  every  day  some  of  the  churches,  especi- 
ally those  where  indulgences  were  to  be  gained,  and  she 
also  frequented  the  stations  with  affectionate  assiduity. 
For  in  that  troubled  epoch,  as  in  the  earliest  times  of 
the  (Jhurch,  as  now,  as  always,  on  certain  days,  in  cer- 
tain places,  the  relics  of  apostles,  of  martyrs,  and  of 
confessore  were  exhibited  to  the  faithfiil,  often  on  the 
veiy  spot  where  they  had  finished  their  coui'se  with 
*ov.   having"  kept  their  faith  and  won  their  crown. 


he  devotion  of  "the  stations,"  as  it  is  performed  in 
Home,  is  one  of  the  most  touching'  links  with  the  past 
that  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  To  pass  along-  the 
street,  so  often  trod  by  holy  feet  in  former  and  in  latter 
days,  and  seek  the  church  appointed  for  that  day's  sta- 
tion ;  to  approach  some  time-worn  basilica,  or  ancient 
sanctuary,  without  the  city  walls  may  be,  and  pausing* 
on  the  threshold,  give  one  look  at  the  g-lorious  works  of 
Almighty  God  in  the  natural  world, — at  the  wide  Cani- 
pagTia,  that  land-sea,  so  beautiful  in  its  broad  expanse 
and  its  desolate  grandeiu*,  at  the  purple  hills  with  their 
g-olden  lights  and  their  deep-blue  shadows,  and  the 
arched  sky  telling"  so  vividly  the  glory  of  its  Maker ; 
and  then  slowly  lifting'  the  heavy  curtain  that  stands 
between  that  vision  of  earthly  beauty,  and  the  shrine 
where  countless  generations  have  come  to  worship,— to 
ti-ead  under  feet  the  green  boughs,  the  sweet-smelling' 
leaves,  the  scattered  flowers,  that  morning*  strewn  upon 
the  uneven,  time-trod,  time-honoured  pavement ;  bow- 
ing* in  adoration  before  the  Lord  in  His  tubemacle,  to 
thank  Him  for  the  wonders  that  He  has  worked  in  His 
saints, — for  the  beauty  of  the  world  of  grace,  of  which 
that  of  the  visible  world  is  but  the  ty[)e  and  the  sha- 
dow; and  then  move  from  one  shnne  to  the  other, 
wherever  the  lights  upon  the  altars  |>oint  the  way,  and 
invoke  the  assistance,  the  prayers  of  the  saints  whose 


I!   I 


1  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 

relics  are  there  displayed; — all  this  is  one  of  those  raie 
enjoyments  which  at  once  feed  the  soul  and  awake  the 
imag-ination,  and  which  the  devout  Chi-istian  can  find 
in  no  place  hut  Rome. 

It  was  these  "stations"  that  Francesca's  mother 
fi-eqnented,  and  took  her  little  daug'hter  with  her. 
Sometimes  she  went  to  some  church  in  the  heart  of 
the  city ;  sometimes  to  some  lonely  shrine  without  the 
walls.  Then,  as  now,  the  heggars  (so  we  find  it  men- 
tioned later  in  the  life  of  the  ^tint)  congregated  at  the 
doors,  and  clamoured  for  alms.  Then,  as  now,  the 
lights  burned  upon  the  altars,  and  the  sweet  smell  of 
fragrant  and  crushed  leaves  perfumed  the  air.  Dmins^ 
sermons  the  Uttle  girl's  attention  never  wandered ;  and 
on  her  return  home  she  was  wont  to  repeat  what  she 
had  heard  with  imction  and  delight. 

Her  mother's  favourite  church  was  that  of  Santa 
Maria  Nuova ;  in  our  day  more  frequently  called  that 
of  San  Francesca  Romana.  It  stands  in  the  Toro 
Romano,  close  to  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  Temple  of 
Peace.  It  was  served  at  that  time  by  the  Beneaictine 
monks  of  Mount  Olivet;  and  to  one  of  them,  Don  An- 
tonio di  Monte  Savello,  Jacobella  de'  Roffi-edeschi 
intrusted  the  spiritual  direction  of  her  daughter.  Ho 
was  a  man  of  great  learning  and  piety,  ana  continued 
her  director  for  five  and  thirty  ycai*s.  Every  Wednes- 
day the  little  maiden  came  to  him  for  confession.  She 
consulted  him  about  her  occupations,  her  religious  ex- 
ercises, and  her  studies,  and  exactly  obeyed  lus  most 
minute  directions,  even  in  indifferent  things.  Oflen  she 
tried  for  his  permission  to  practise  gfreater  austerities ; 
and  such  was  her  fervour,  and  the  plain  indications  of 
God's  designs  upon  her.  that  he  occasionally  allowed 
her  to  i^eriorm  penances  which  might  have  been  con- 
sidei'ed  in  ordinary  cases  too  severe  for  her  tender  Ago. 
At  other  times  he  forbade  them  altogether;  and  siie 
submitted  cheerfully  to  his  commands,  without  a  word 
of  remonstrance  or  complaint,  and  resumed  them  again 
at  his  desire,  with  the  e<][uanimity  of  one  who  well  knew 


I 


)  I 


A 


CH.  I.]       ~  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  tP 

that  the  spirit  of  perfect  obedience  is  more  acceptable  to 
God  than  any  works  of  devotion.  * 

"  A  celestial  brightness,  a  more  eternal  beauty, 
Shone  un  hor  facu,  and  encircled  her  form,  when  after  confos- 

8ion 
Homeward  serenely  she  walked,  with  God's  benediction  upon 
I  her. 

When  she  had  passed,  it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of  exquisite 
music"* 

Francesca's  daily  life  was  as  perfect  as  a  child's 
could  be.  No  untrue  words  sidliea  her  pure  lips ;  no 
gross  thoug-ht  dwelt  in  her  mind.  She  seldom  laughed, 
though  a  sweet  smile  was  often  on  her  lips.  Up  to  the 
ao;e  of  eleven,  her  life  was  one  long  continual  prayer 
Every  little  action  was  perfoniied  with  a  view  to  tha 
glory  of  God.  Her  triflmg  failings  she  deplored  with 
anguish ;  eveiy  stain  on  the  pure  mirror  of  her  con- 
science was  instantly  washed  away  by  tears.  It  ivas 
not  long  beforo  it  pleased  God  to  vouchsafe  to  her  extiti- 
ordinary  graces.  Hei  early  and  almost  intuitive  ac- 
qut  intance  with  the  mystenes  of  religion  was  wonder- 
ful. Every  day  she  meditated  on  the  Incarnation  and 
the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  her  devotion  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin  increased  in  proportion  to  her  love  for 
our  Lord.  Her  face  flushed  with  delight,  and  a  sera- 
phic eXpi-ession  beamed  in  her  eyes,  when  she  spoke  of 
the  sufferings  of  Jesus,  and  the  glories  of  Maiy.  From 
the  little  oratory  whnre  she  held  secret  communion  with 
heaven,  she  went  out  into  the  world  with  the  most  ar- 
dent desire  to  serve  the  poor,  to  console  the  afflicted,  to 
do  good  to  all.  The  affection  of  her  younff  heart  found 
vent  in  numerous  works  of  charity;  and  Fruncescu's 
name,  and  Francesca's  sweet  voice,  and  Francesca's  fair 
face,  were  even  then  to  many  of  the  sufferers  of  that 
dark  epoch  a  sign  of  hoj)e,—  a  pledge  that  God  was  still 
amongst  them  as  of  yore,  and  llis  S]>irit  at  work  in  the 
heails  of  men. 

*  Longfellow  :  EvangelimM, 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  BOMB. 


i  M 


I  II : 


CHAPTER  II. 

VRANCBSCa's  XAALT  INCLIlfATIOlf  FOB  THB  CLOISTKB — BT  BBB  PA- 
THBB^  DBBIRB  SUB  MABBIB8  LOBENZO  PONZIAMO— HBB  MABBIBO 
LIFB — HBB  ILLNESS  AND  MIBACULOVS  CORB. 

From  the  time  that  Francescahad  understood  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words,  her  greatest  desire  had  been  to  enter 
a  convent ;  but  with  that  spirit  of  humility  and  reserve 
which  so  particalarlj  beIons>ed  to  her,  she  had  kept 
her  desiro  concealed  in  her  heart,  and  had  manifested 
it  to  none  but  God  and  her  director.  Don  Antonio 
encouraged  her  to  persevere  in  this  silence,  and  to  prove 
her  own  resolution  by  secretly  adhering  to  the  rules, 
and  practising  the  austerities  of  one  of  the  strictest  re- 
ligious orders.  She  gladly  assented  to  this,  and  per- 
severed in  it  for  a  considerable  time.  Stronger  and 
deeper  every  day  crew  her  inclination  to  forsake  the 
wond,  and  to  hola  communion  with  God  alone  in  the 
solitude  of  the  cloister ;  with  that  God  whose  love  had 
already  driven  from  her  heart  all  care  for  comfort,  for 
pleasure,  and  for  self.  But  not  so  smooth  was  to  be 
ner  path  through  life ;  not  much  longer  was  she  to  sit 
in  silence  at  the  feet  of  her  Lord,  with  no  other  thought 
than  to  live  on  the  words  which  fell  from  His  lip. 

Though  she  concealed  as  much  as  possiole  the 
peculiarities  of  her  mode  of  life,  they  could  not  alto- 
gether escape  the  notice  of  her  parents;  and  they  soon 
S[i'*stioned  her  on  the  subject.  When  she  inrormed 
.  im  of  her  wish  to  embrace  the  religious  life,  her 
father  chose  to  consider  her  vocation  as  a  childish  fancy, 
and  informed  her  in  return  that  he  had  already  pro- 
mised her  in  maniage  to  Lorenzo  Ponziano,  a  young 
nobleman  of  illustrious  birth,  and  not  less  eminent  fur 
his  virtues  and  for  his  talents  than  fi'om  his  fortune 
and  position.    He  reckoned  amongst  his  ancestors  St. 


■i- 


OH.  II.]  9T.  FRANCES  OP  ROME.  # 

Paulianiii^,  pope  and  martyr ;  his  mother  was  a  Mel- 
lini;  and  his  eldest  ])i*otlier  Pahixzo  had  man-it^d  Van- 
nuzza,  a  daug'hter  of  the  noble  house  of  Santa  Cmce. 
Fmncesca's  heart  sank  within  her  at  tills  announcement, 
and  fallin"^  on  lier  knees  she  implored  lier  father  to 
alter  his  determination,  and  allow  her  to  follow  what 
she  believed  to  be  the  will  of  God  in  her  reg-ard.  She, 
went  even  so  fai'  as  to  protest  that  nothing'  slioidd  in- 
duce lier  to  consent  to  tiiis  man-iag-o ;  torrents  of  t^^ars 
fell  fi*om  her  eyes  as  she  poured  forth  her  supplications 
and  ui'gfed  her  request.  But  it  was  all  in  vain  that  she 
wept  and  prayed.  Paul  Bussa  turned  a  deuf  ear  tr 
her  pleadings;  declared  that  his  woitl  was  pledg-ed, 
that  nothin*^  should  ever  ,  L.i-suade  him  to  retract  it; 
and  he  insisted  that,  as  adutiftd  daugphter,  she  shoul.l 
submit  hei-self  to  his  will.  Seeing;  him  thus  immovable, 
Francesca  rose  fi*om  lier  knees,  withdrew  in  silence  from 
his  pi-esence,  and  retiring'  into  her  little  oratory,  pros- 
trated hei*self  before  the  cnicifix,  and  asked  counsel  of 
Him  at  whose  feet  she  wished  to  live  and  to  die ;  and 
implored  Him,  if  such  was  His  good  pleasure,  to  exeit 
His  Almig'hty  Power,  and  raise  obstacles  to  the  pro- 


jected 


marnappe. 


Then,  strengthened  by  prayer,  she 


« 


was  inspii-ed  to  seek  direction  from  him  wlio  was  the 
organ  of  the  divine  wdl  to  her,  and  hurrying^  to  Santa 
Maria  Nuova,  she  refpiested  to  see  Don  Antonio  Savello. 
Kindly  and  g'ently  the  good  priest  spoke  to  his 
afflicted  penitent.  He  promised  to  consult  the  Lord  for 
her  in  prayer,  and  sug-gested  some  devotions  to  be  used 
by  hei-self  for  that  pur j)ose.  Then,  seeing;  her  countenance 
assume  a  calmer  exi>i*ession,  he  emleavoured  to  prejMire 
her  mind  for  hat  lie  doubtless  already  knew  was  the 
will  of  God,  and  the  true,  though  in  one  so  minded,  the 
singfidar  vocation  of  Francesca.  "  If  your  parents  j)er- 
sist  in  their  resoiiition  (he  said),  take  it,  my  child,  as  a 
sign  that  God  exj)ects  of  you  this  sacritice.  Offer  up 
to  Him  in  that  case  your  eamest  desire  for  the  relig-ious 
life.  He  will  accept  the  will  for  the  deed;  and  you  will 
obtain  rt  once  the  reward  of  that  wish,  and  the  peculiar 


10 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


M 


graces  attached  to  the  sacrament  of  mnrriag'e.  God's 
ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  Francesca.  Wlien  St.  Mary 
Magdalene  had  sent  for  the  Lor«i  Jesus  Clirist  to  come 
and  heal  her  hrother,  it  was  no  doubt  a  severe  trial  to  her 
tliat  He  came  not ;  that  the  long-  hours  of  the  day  and 
of  the  nig-ht  succeeded  each  other,  and  that  He  tanied 
on  the  way,  and  sent  no  message  or  token  of  His  love. 
But  when  her  brother  rose  from  the  dead,  when  the 
shroud  fell  from  his  limbs,  and  he  itood  before  her  frdl 
of  lite  and  strength,  she  understood  the  mvsteiy,  and 
adored  the  divine  wisdom  of  that  delay,  (irod  indeed 
asks  of  you  your  heart,  Francesca ;  but  He  a)so  claims 
your  whole  self  as  an  oblation,  and  therefore  jour  will 
that  He  may  mould  it  into  entire  conformity  with  His 
own.  For  works  may  be  many  and  gootl,  my  daughter, 
and  piety  may  be  fervent,  ana  virtues  eminent,  and  yet 
the  smallest  leaven  of  self-love  or  self-will  may  ruin  the 
whole.  Why  do  you  weep,  Francesca?  That  God's 
will  is  not  accomplished,  or  that  vour  own  is  thwarted? 
Nothing  but  sin  can  mar  the  ni'st,  and  in  this  your 
trial  there  is  not  the  least  sliade  of  sin.  As  to  your  own 
will,  bend,  bi'eak,  annihilate  it,  my  child,  and  take 
courage.  Have  but  one  thought — the  good  pleasure, 
the  sweet  will  of  God ;  sid)mit  yourself  to  His  Provi- 
dence. Lay  down  your  wislies  as  an  oblation  on  His 
altar ;  give  up  that  highest  place  which  you  had  justly 
coveted;  take  the  lower  one  which  He  now  appoints 
you ;  and  if  you  cannot  be  His  spouse,  be  His  loving 
and  faithful  servant." 

Francesca  went  home,  and  awaited  in  silence  her 
fathei*'s  further  commands.  She  was  very  pale,  for  the 
stniggle  was  a  painful  one.  She  prayed  night  and  day, 
watched  and  fasted.  When  Paul  itiussa  renewed  his 
injunctions,  she  gently  gave  her  assent,  begged  him  to 
forgive  her  past  resistance,  ami  henceforward  gave  no 
outward  signs  of  the  suffering  within,  all  the  gi-eater 
that  it  came  in  the  form  of  rejoicing,  and  that  others 
deemed  that  to  be  happiness  wiiich  cost  her  so  many 
secret  teai-s.    The  family  of  Poi  ziano  were  overjoyed 


I 


CH.  II.]  8T.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 

at  the  mannage, — tlie  brido  was  so  ri''h,  so  beantifiil, 
and  po  virtuous ;  thei*e  was  not  a  young-  man  in  Rome 
who  did  not  look  with  envy  on  Lorenzo,  nnd  wisli  liim- 
selt'  in  his  stead.  Thei-e  was  no  end  to  tlie  banquets, 
the  festivities,  the  merrymakinofs,  wliich  took  place  on 
the  occasion ;  and  in  the  midst  of  these  rejoicinaps  Fran- 
cesco left  her  father's  palace  for  that  of  the  Ponziani. 
It  stood  in  the  heart  of  the  Trastevere,  close  to  the  Yel- 
low River,  though  not  quite  uj)on  it,  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Ponte  Rotto,  in  a  street  that  rans  parallel  with  the 
Tiber.  It  is  a  well-known  spot;  and  on  the  0th  of 
March,  the  Festival  of  St.  Francesca,  the  people  of 
Rome  nnd  of  the  neighbourhood  flock  to  it  in  crowds. 
The  modem  building  that  has  been  raised  on  the  foun- 
dation of  the  old  palace  is  the  Casa  dei  Esercizii  Pii,  fur 
the  yoimg  men  of  the  city.  There  the  repentant  sinner 
who  longs  to  break  the  chain  of  sin,  the  youth  beset  by 
some  sti*ong  temptation,  one  who  has  heard  the  inward 
voice  summoning  him  to  higher  paths  of  virtue,  another 
who  is  in  doubt  as  to  the  particular  line  of  life  to 
which  he  is  called,  may  come,  and  leave  behind  them 
for  three,  or  five,  or  ten  days,  as  it  may  be,  the  busy 
world,  with  all  its  distractions  and  its  agitations,  and^ 
fi*ee  for  the  time  being  fi*om  temporal  cares,  the  wants 
of  the  body  provided  for,  and  the  mind  at  rest,  may 
commune  witii  Gcd  and  their  own  souls.  Here  they 
listen  daily,  nay  hourly,  to  the  instructions  of  devout 
priests,  who,  in  the  manner  prescribed  by  St.  Ignatius, 
Dhice  before  them  in  tui-n  tlie  most  awral  truths  and 
the  most  consoling  mysteries  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
Resolutions  are  thus  taken,  conversions  often  effected, 
firocd  purjioses  strengthened  in  a  way  which  often  seems 
little  short  of  miracidous.  The  means  are  marvellously 
adapted  to  the  end ;  and  though  mnny  a  wave  may  sweep 
over  the  soul,  when  it  again  rctui-ns  to  the  world,  a 
mark  has  been  stomped  upon  it  not  easily  effaced. 

Over  the  Casa  dei  Esercisfii  Pii  the  sweet  spirit  of 
Francesca  seems  still  to  preside.  On  the  day  of  her 
ivstivfd  its  rooms  ai^e  thi'own  open,  every  memorial  of 


12 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


I  ( 


the  gentle  snint  is  exhibited^  liglits  burn  on  numerous 
altara,  flowers  deck  the  passages,  leaves  are  strewn  in 
the  chapel,  on  the  stairs,  in  the  enti-ance-coui-t ;  guy 
carpets,  fij^u'ed  tapestry  and  crimson  silks  hanff  over 
the  door,  and  ci-owds  of  i)eople  go  in  and  out,  and  kneel 
befora  the  relics  or  the  pictures  of  the  dear  saint  of 
Rome,  and  gi'eet  on  each  altar,  and  linger  in  these 
chambei's,  like  kinsfolk  met  on  a  birthday  to  rejoice  to- 
gether. The  well-di'esseil  and  the  I'agjV'ed,  the  rich  and 
the  I  'or,  w'*  out  distinction,  pay  then*  homnge  to  her 
swee^  '» «));i ..  y  whose  living  pi-esence  once  adonied  the 
spot  ^ -i  ,'li  tht  ■  visit.  It  is  a  joyous  and  touching  fes- 
tival, OIL  j.ci.  r wakens  tender  thoup-lits,  and  brings 
the  world  of  meii  ^i  v  into  close  connee  in  with  that  of 
ho{)e.  The  mind  is  forcibly  canied  back  to  the  day 
when  the  young  biide  of  Lorenzo  Ponziano  entered 
these  walls  for  the  flrat  time,  in  all  the  saci'ed  beauty  of 
holiness  and  youth— 

**  Pure  as  the  virgin  snow  that  dwells 
Upon  the  mountain's  crest, 
Cold  as  the  sheet  of  ice  that  lies 
Upon  the  lake's  deep  breast" 

Pure  from  the  least  taint  of  worldly  vanity,  cold  to  all 
that  belongs  to  human  passion;  but  with  a  heart  buming 
with  love  to  God,  and  ovei-flowing  with  chaiity  to  every 
craature  of  His. 

She  was  received  tenderly  and  joyfully  by  Lorenzo 
himself,  by  his  father  Andrew,  his  mother  Cecilia,  and 
Vannozza,  the  wife  of  his  elder  bmther.  Francesca 
smiled  sweetly  us  she  returned  their  cai>esses;  but  the 
noise,  and  the  gaiety,  and  the  visituig,  that<attended  a 
wedding  in  those  days  weighed  heavily  on  her  spirits ; 
and  though  she  never  complained,  Vannozza  perceived 
that  her  little  heart  was  oppressed  with  some  secret 
soiTow,  and  tenderly  inciuired  into  its  cause.  Fi-ancesca 
could  not  i-esist  the  gentle  appeal,  and  disclosed  her  grief 
to  her  kind  sister.  She  told  her  that  the  world  had 
never  given  her  pleasui'e,  that  her  affections  wera  else* 


CH.  II.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMB 


13 


\ 


where  set,  timt  she  longed  to  live  for  God  iilonc,  nnd 
felt  sad,  in  spite  of  all  her  effoi-ts,  at  the  tumult  and  dis- 
sipation which  was  now  her  portion.  "If  such  are 
your  feelings,  my  heloved  little  sister,"  exclaimed  V'an- 


nozza,  "  ray  sympathy  may  serve  to  console  you ;  for 
neither  do  I  ifina  any  delight  in  the  vanities  of  the 
world,  but  only  in  prayer  and  meditation.  Let  us  be 
friends,  P'rancesca ;  I  will  help  you  to  lead  the  life  you 
desire,  and  together  we  shall  oirive  at  the  end  we  huvu 
in  view." 

These  kind  words  filled  Francesca's  heart  with  joy ; 
and  from  that  day  forward  there  spning  up  a  fi-ieud- 
shin  between  these  two  young  women,  which  lasted  for 
eight-and- thirty  years,  and  was  a  source  of  tb*'  gieatest 
consolation  to  them  through  all  the  t?Ials  1  ?y  '  d  to 
encounter,  at  the  same  time  that  it  edified  a)^  iao  who 
beheld  that  tender  affection. 

In  her  new  home  Francesca  followed  f...  la  le  mode 
of  life  which  she  had  pursued  in  her  father's  >  iufb;  but 
her  zeal  was  temperea  with  so  much  wi  "lom  and  })ru- 
dence,  that  she  offended  no  one,  and  cv.  r  ^ed  to  win 
the  affection  of  all  her  relations.  Her  good  sense,  her 
sweetness  of  temper,  her  earnest  piety,  charmed  them 
all;  and  they  were  astonished  that  so  young  a  girl  could 
at  once  assume  the  pait  and  fiilfil  the  duties  of  a  de- 
voted wife  and  a  noble  matron.  Anxious  in  every  way 
to  conform  hei-self  to  Lorenzo's  wishes,  she  received  the 
visits  of  the  high-born  ladies  her  eouals  and  companio'is, 
and  retuiTied  them  with  punctuality.  She  suhmitted 
to  appear  in  public  with  all  the  state  which  belonged 
to  her  position,  and  accepted  and  wore  the  costly 
dresses  and  the  splendid  jewels  which  her  husband 
lavished  upon  her ;  but  un^r  those  gorgeous  silks  and 
rich  brocades  a  hair-shirt  was  concealed.  Always  ready 
to  comply  with  any  ob.  ervance  which  duty  or  propriety 
required,  slie  at  the  same  time  steadily  aostainecl  even 
from  the  innocent  amusements  in  which  othei's  in- 
dulged; and  nevei*  danced  or  played  at  cai-ds,  or  sat 
up  late  at  night. 


14 


ST.  PRANCES  OP  ROMF. 


Iler  manner  was  so  g-entle  and  kind,  tlmt  it  inspired 
affection  in  nil  who  anpi-oaclied  lier ;  but  there  was  also 
ft  profound  and  awful  puritv  in  her  aspect  and  in  her 
demeanour,  which  effectually  checked  the  uttemnce  of 
a  fi'9.e  or  licentious  word  in  her  jM-esence.  Faitiiful  to 
her  early  habits  of  piety,  she  continued  evei-y  Wednes- 
day her  visits  to  Santa  Maria  Nuova ;  and  after  con- 
fessing to  Don  Antonio,  she  went  to  communion  with 
such  tei-vent  devotion,  that  those  who  saw  her  at  the 
altar  absorbed  in  adoration,  foresaw  that  God  would  ei*e 
long"  bestow  extraordinary  craces  on  her  soul.  Rising 
betimes  in  the  moraing",  Francesca  devoutly  said  her 
prayei-s,  made  her  meditation,  and  read  attentively  out 
of  a  spiritual  book.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  when- 
ever she  had  a  moment's  leisure  unclaimed  by  any  of 
the  duties  of  her  state,  she  withdrew  into  a  church  or 
into  her  own  room,  and  gave  hei-self  up  to  prayer. 
Every  Saturday  she  had  a  conference  with  Pra  \lichele, 
a  Dominican  monk,  the  prior  of  San  Clemente,  %nd  an 
intimate  fiiend  of  her  father-in-law.  He  was  a  learned 
theologian,  as  well  as  a  man  of  great  piety  and  virtue, 
and  instinicted  her  with  care  in  all  the  doctnnes  of 
religion. 

At  the  same  time,  so  austere  and  devout  a  life  in  a 
young'  person  of  twelve  years  old  could  not  fail  to  at- 
tract tne  attention  and  draw  down  the  censures  of  the 
worldly.  Many  such  beg-an  to  laugh  at  Francesca,  and 
to  tuiTi  her  piety  into  ndicule.  They  inti-uded  ♦heir 
advice  on  Lorenzo  Ponziano,  and  urged  him  to  put  a 
stop  to  what  they  teraied  his  wife's  eccentricities.  But 
happily  for  Fi*ancesca,  he  was  not  one  of  those  men  who 
Bra  easily  influenced  by  the  opinion  of  othera.  He  formed 
his  own  judgment,  and  puraued  his  own  line  of  conduct 
undistiirued  by  the  comments  and  animadversions  of  his 
would-be  advisei*s.  His  young  wife  was  much  too  pre- 
cious to  him,  much  too  j)erfect  in  his  sight,  her  whole 
life  bora  too  visibly  the  stami)  of  (jlod's  dealings  with 
her,  for  him  to  dream  of  interfering  with  the  coui-se  she 
Qftd  taken.     On  the  conti'ai'y,  he  looked  upon  her  with 


i  1 


en.  II.]  ST.  PRANCF.8  OP  ROME.  15 

that  nfFectionote  veneration  which  the  presence  of  tnio 
sunctity  always  awakens  in  a  noble  and  relig-ious  mind. 
His  father  and  mother  were  of  the  same  way  of 
thinking,  and  all  hut  idolised  the  holy  child  who  had 
come  amongst  tliem  as  an  anffel  of  peace.  Thev  re- 
garded her  as  the  blessing'  of  their  house,  and  the 
comfort  of  their  old  ajre.  l*aliizzo,  Lorenzo's  brother, 
delighted  in  encouraging*  the  intimacy  that  had  arisen 
between  his  young  sister-in-law  and  his  own  wife  Van- 
nozza.  There  was  not  a  single  member,  friend,  or  ser- 
vant, of  that  noble  family,  that  did  not  look  with  deUght 
upon  Francesca.  She  was  the  joy  of  every  heart,  the 
!iweet  consoler  of  every  sorrow,  the  link  ''Jiat  bound 
them  all  by  the  sacred  cord  of  love.  Day  by  day  her 
influence — her  tender,  noiseless,  g'entle  influence — was 
felt,  subduing,  winning,  drawinc-  them  all  to  God. 

The  happiness  which  the  family  of  Ponziano  had 
enjoyed  since  Lorenzo's  marriage  was  inteiTupted  by 
the  sudden  and  dangerous  illness  of  his  wife,  which 
baffled  all  medical  skill,  and  soon  brought  her  to  the 
verge  of  the  grave.  The  affliction  of  her  husband  and 
of  his  whole  family  was  extreme.  ITieir  pearl  of  great 
price  seemed  about  to  be  taken  from  them.  No  reme- 
dies afforded  the  slightest  relief  to  her  suffei  mgs ;  she 
was  unable  to  rest,  or  to  retain  any  nourisliment ;  and 
every  day  her  strength  declined.  The  consteniation  of 
her  fi'iends  knew  no  bounds;  her  father  was  inconso- 
lable. He  secretly  reproached  himself  with  the  con- 
straint he  had  placed  on  her  inclinations,  and  considered 
her  illness  as  a  Divine  chastisement.  Francesca  alone 
remained  unmoved  amidst  the  general  affliction.  She 
placed  her  life  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  waited  the 
event  with  perfect  submission.  Unable  to  speak,  or 
even  to  move,  the  sweet  exinession  of  her  earnest  eyes 
alone  spoke  her  grotitude  to  those  who  nui^scd  her  and 
wept  over  her  suffen'n«rs.  At  otlior  times  they  were 
fixed  on  the  Cmcifix  witli  an  unutterable  look  of  trust 
and  love.  Once  only  she  was  disturbed,  and  indigna- 
tion gave  her  strength  to  protest  against  the  guilty 


16 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  HOME. 


f  ug"gt!Stion8  of  some  friends  of  the  family,  who,  nccord- 
iiij^  to  tho  notions  of  thftt  time,  pei-sisted  in  btilievingf 
tlmt  (i  spell  hud  been  cast  upon  her,  nnd  nr()|)Of<ed  to 
liuvo  rrcoiirse  to  some  persons  in  Home  wiio  dealt,  or 
|»irt(!nde<i  to  deal,  in  mugfic  arts.  Fnmcesea  declared 
hei-s(;lf  r(!iMly  to  die,  mther  than  conntcnance  so  impious 
n  proccHuling*.  After  all  medical  resources  had  been 
exhausted,  when  despair  had  succeeded  to  hope,  AU 
nii;;:htv  (iod  restored  her  health  for  a  while ;  and  the 
news  of  her  recovery  was  hailed  with  rapture  within 
and  without  the  palace. 

Her  sufferings,  however,  returned  with  double  vio- 
l(>nce ;  she  endured  the  most  excruciating'  pains ;  and  was 
n;^iin  considered  to  be  at  the  |>oint  of  death.  Durinj^ 
a  whole  year  she  remained  as  it  were  on  the  brink  of 
eternity :  her  soul  prepared  to  take  its  wing ;  continually 
sustained  by  the  Sacmnients  of  the  Church,  her  only 
I'einaining'  thought  was  to  soothe  the  anguish  of  her 
husband  and  parents.  Once  again,  those  persons  who 
had  previously  proposed  to  resort  to  magic  arts  for  her 
cure,  managed  to  thrust  into  her  room,  on  some  pre-  * 
t4?nce  or  other,  a  woman  celebrated  in  that  line.  Fran- 
cesco, enlightened  by  a  divine  inspiration,  instantly 
detected  the  fraud ;  and  raising  herself  in  her  bed,  witn 
a  voice,  the  strength  of  which  astonished  the  by- 
standers, exclaimed,  "  Begone,  thou  servant  of  Satan, 
nor  ever  venture  to  enter  these  walls  again!"  Ex- 
hausted by  the  effort,  she  fell  back  faint  and  colourless; 
and  for  a  moment  they  feared  that  her  spirit  had  passed 
away.  But  that  very  day  God  was  preparing  a  miracle 
in  her  behalf;  and  as  she  had  refiised  to  hold  any  com- 
munication with  the  Evil  One,  He  was  about  to  send 
His  young  servant  a  heavenly  messenger,  with  health 
and  healing  on  his  wings.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  Fes- 
tival of  St.  Alexis, — that  noble  Roman  penitent,  who 
passed  so  many  years  at  the  threshold  of  ins  own  palace, 
unpitied,  unrecognised  by  his  own  relations,  who  went 
in  and  out  at  the  gate,  and  stopjMKl  not  to  question  the 
silent,  lonely,  patient  beggar,  who  lay  there  with  his 


Cll.  fl.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMK. 


1? 


face  hid  in  a  poor  cloak,  finding  peace  in  the  midst  of 
bitterness. 

The  Ponziani  had  all  witlidrnwn  to  rest  for  a  fow 
hours;  the  women  who  attended  on  the  dying*  Fnm- 
cesca  had  fallen  asleep.  She  was  lying  motionless  on 
her  couch  of  {min.  Her  sufforings  had  been  siiurp; 
they  were  sharper  than  ever  that  night.  Slie  endured 
them  in  the  strangth  of  the  Cross,  trom  wliich  neither 
her  eyes  nor  her  thoughts  wandered.  The  whole  house, 
and  apparently  the  city  also,  was  wrapt  in  slumlter ;  for 
not  a  sound  matTcd  the  stillness  of  the  hour, — that  still- 
ness so  trying  to  those  who  watch  and  suffer.  Sud- 
denly on  the  darkness  of  the  silent  chamber  a  light 
broke,  bright  as  the  day.  In  the  midst  stood  a  radiant 
figiu-e,  iniijestic  in  form  and  gracious  in  countenance. 
He  wore  u  pilgrim's  robe ;  but  it  shone  like  burnished 
gold.  Dmwiiig  near  to  Francesca's  bed,  he  said :  "  I 
am  Alexis,  and  am  sent  from  God  to  inquire  of  thee  if 
thou  choosest  to  be  healed  ?"  Twice  he  repeated  tne 
words,  and  then  the  dying  one  faintly  murmiu-ed,  "  I 
have  no  choice  but  the  good  pleasure  of  God.  Ue  it 
done  unto  me  according  to  His  will.  For  my  own  part, 
I  would  pi-efer  to  die,  and  for  my  soul  to  fly  to  Him  at 
once ;  but  I  accept  all  at  His  hands,  be  it  life  or  be  it 
death."  "  Life,  then,  it  is  to  be,"  replied  St.  Alexis ; 
"  for  He  chooses  that  thou  shouldest  remain  in  tho 
world  to  glorify  His  name."  With  tJiese  words  he 
spread  his  mantle  over  Francesca  and  disappeared, 
leaving  her  perfectly  recovered. 

Confounaed  at  this  extraordinary  favour,  more  alive 
to  the  sense  of  God's  wonderful  mercy  than  to  he.*  own 
sudden  freedom  from  pain,  Francesca  rose  in  haste,  and 
prostrate  on  the  floor,  made  a  silent  and  fervent  thanks- 
giving ;  then  slipping  out  of  her  room  without  awaking 
fier  nui'ses,  she  hunied  to  the  bedside  of  her  friend  iinii 
■B^r.  Putting  her  arm  round  her  neck  and  lier  cheek 
next  to  ber's,  she  exclaimed,  "  Vannozza  cura !  Vannozzu 
mia !"  (My  dear  Vannozza,  my  own  Vannozza.)  And 
the  bewildered  Vannozza  suddenly  awoke  out  oi  her 


\i 


■W§  ST.  FRANCES  OF  KOMR. 

sleep,  und  distrusting  the  evidence  of  Iier  senses,  kept 
reiieating",  " Who  calls  me?  Who  nre  you?  Am  I 
dreaming-?  It  sounds  like  the  voice  of  my  Cecolella."* 
**  Yes,  it  is  your  Cecolella ;  it  is  your  little  sister  who 
is  speaking-  to  you."  "  My  Fi-ancesca,  whom  1  left  an 
hour  agx)  at  the  point  of  death  ?"  ''  Yes,  the  very  same 
Francesca  who  now  holds  you  to  her  braast ;  you,  you, 
my  beloved  companion,  who  day  and  night  have  com- 
forted  and  consoled  me  during'  my  long  illness,  and  who 
must  now  help  me  to  thank  God  for  His  wonderful 
mercy."  Then  sitting  upon  her  bed,  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  her's,  she  related  to  her  her  vision,  and  the 
'nstantaneous  recovery  that,  had  followed  it ;  and  then, 
i&  the  light  was  beginning  to  break  into  the  chamber, 
she  added  with  eageniess,  *'  Now,  now  the  day  is  come. 
Let  us  not  delay  a  moment  longer,  but  hasten  with  me 
to  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  and  then  to  the  chui*ch  of  St. 
Alexis.  I  must  venerate  his  relics,  and  return  him  my 
thanks,  before  others  leaiTi  what  God  has  done  for  me.^' 
This  pious  purpose  fuliilled,  they  retiuTied  home, 
where  Francesca  was  looked  upon  as  one  risen  from  the 
dead.  The  affection  she  inspired  was  mingletl  with  awe; 
every  one  considei-ed  her  as  the  special  object  of  the 
Divine  mercy,  and  venerated  her  accordingly.  Not  so 
joyfully  had  Lorenzo  received  her  on  their  bridal-day, 
as  when  she  canu;  to  him  now,  restoi-ed  to  his  arms  by 
\he  miraculous  interposition  of  a  merciful  God. 


CHAPTER  IIJ. 

r&ANCOCA  PROCBKDS  IN  HRR  MORTIFICATIONS  AND  WORKS  OP  CHA- 
BITT — UKR  SUPBRNATURAL  TEMPTATIONS  AND  CONSOLATIONS. 

Not  in  vain  had  Fi-ancesca  l)een  brought  so  near  to 
death,  and  so  wonderiully  restored  to  perfect  health. 
A  favour  such  as  she  had  received  coultl  not  fail  of  pro> 

*  The  Italian  diminutive  for  Francesca. 


"• 


CIT.  III.]  ST.  PRANCES  OP  HOME.  10 

ducing'  signal  results  in  one  who  so  well  coiresponded 
with  every  degree  of  grace  vouchsafed  to  her.  Tliis 
last  manifestation  of  Go<r8  mercy  disposed  her  to  medi- 
tate deeply  «nd  earnestly  on  the  designs  of  Providence 
in  her  regfkd.  She  seemed  now  to  discern,  in  a  clear 
and  overpowering  manner,  the  nature  of  the  particular 
judgment  which  she  had  been  about  to  undergo,  the 
amount  of  responsibility  incurred  by  every  grace  con- 
ferred on  her  soul,  the  severe  account  which  would  bo 
demanded  of  every  talent  committed  to  her  charge;  and 
at  the  sight  she  shuddered,  as  a  man  draws  back  af- 
frighted at  the  distinct  api>earance  of  a  pi-ecipice  which 
he  has  skirted  in  the  ni<jfht,  or  at  the  waves  dashing 
wildly  on  a  beach  on  whicn  he  has  been  landed  in  safety. 
Her  meditations  at  that  time  assumed  a  very  solemn 
character;  every  moment  that  she  could  spai-e  was 
spent  in  the  neighbouring  church  of  St.  Cecdia  or  in 
her  own  oratory,  and  employed  in  a  minute  review  of 
her  past  life,  and  in  forming  heroic  resolutions  for  the 
future. 

The  government  of  the  tongue  is  one  of  tlie  most 
difficult  and  impoi*tant  points  in  the  spiritual  life. 
From  this  time  forward  Francesca  avoided  all  un- 
necessary conversations,  and  became  habitually  silent. 
There  was  no  raoroseness  in  her  silence;  it  never  inter- 
fered with  the  kindnesses  or  the  courtesies  of  life ;  but 
as  in  childhood  she  had  been  remarkable  for  it,  so  in 
womanhood  it  distinguished  her,  and  especially  since 
her  illness  and  miraculous  recovery.  Vannozza  inquire<l 
of  her  one  day  what  it  was  that  made  her  so  habitually 
silent,  and  she  answered,  "  God  expects  more  of  us 
than  hei*etofore ;"  and  then  she  proposed  to  her  a  still 
stricter  mode  of  life  than  they  had  yet  adopted.  Van- 
nozza willingly  assented,  and  they  agreed  to  give  up  all 
useless  amusements,  fashionable  drives,  and  divei-sions, 
and  to  d(!Vote  to  pmyer  and  to  good  works  the  hours 
thus  withdrawn  from  the  service  of  the  world.  Tii(«y 
resolvetl  to  observe  with  the  most  exact  putictuality 
every  law  of  Qod,  and  every  precept  of  the  Church ;  to 


il! 


20 


ST.  FUANCE8  OF  ROME. 


obey  their  husbands  with  the  most  attentive  nnd  Chris* 
tian-like  submission ;  to  be  invariably  docile  to  their 
gliostly  father,  and  submit  to  him  their  actions,  their 
words,  and  even  their  tliouu^hts;  and  thus  to  secui'o 
themselves  ag'ainst  the  deceits  of  he  evil  one.  They 
then  pi-oceeded  to  arrang-e  for  themselves  a  place  of 
retreat,  where  they  could  withdmw  to  pray  at  any  iiour 
of  the  day  or  of  the  night.  It  was  not  easy  to  accom- 
plish this  in  a  palace  inhabited  bv  a  numerous  family 
and  a  large  number  of  servants ;  but  in  a  sort  of  cave 
at  one  end  of  the  gimlen,  and  in  a  little  room  that 
liappened  to  be  unoccupied  under  the  i*oof  of  the  house, 
they  established  two  omtoiies,  which  they  fiu*nished 
witn  cmcifixes,  images  of  our  Blessed  Lady,  and  pic- 
tiii^BS  of  saints,  as  well  as  with  various  other  ol)jects  of 
devotion  and  with  instniments  of  |)enanco.  These  two 
little  cells  became  their  comfort  and  delight ;  whenever 
their  domestic  duties  or  their  i-eligious  observances  out 
of  dooi-s  left  them  at  liberty,  they  wei-e  in  the  habit  of 
i-etiring  into  the  garden  oratory,  and  at  night  they 
frequently  spent  whole  houi-s  in  prayer  in  the  upper 
chamber.  The  first  dawn  of  day  often  found  them  at 
their  orisons.  The  houi-s  that  were  not  devoted  to 
prayer  or  to  the  duties  of  their  state,  they  employed  in 
works  of  charity.  Almost  every  day  they  went  to  the 
Iiospital  of  San  Spirito,  and  nursed  the  sick  with  the 
kindest  attention ;  consoling  them  by  their  gentle 
words  and  tender  care,  bestowing  alms  upon  the  most 
needy,  and  above  all,  tending  affectionately  the  most 
disgusting  cases  of  disease  and  infirmity.  Throughout 
their  whole  lives  they  never  omitted  this  practice.  To 
serve  Christ  in  His  afflicted  brethren  was  a  ])rivilege 
they  never  consented  to  forego. 

Francesca  was  at  this  time  very  anxious  to  lay 
aside  tlie  insignia  of  wealth  and  rank,  and  to  dress  as 
simply  as  the  poor  she  so  much  loved;  but,  always  olx*- 
d'umtf  she  would  not  attempt  to  do  so  without  the  p»'r- 
inission  of  her  spiritual  guide.  Don  Antonio  Savello 
would  not  give  her  leave  tu  relinquish  the  splemlid  robes 


en.  ni.]  6T.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


Si 


then  worn  by  persons  of  her  rank ;  lie  feared  it  mig-ht 
annoy  her  husband,  and  tliat  there  mig-ht  be  dnng-er  of 
ostentation  in  any  tiling-  that  attracted  public  attention ; 
but  he  allowed  both  the  sisters  to  wear  a  coarse  woollen 
garment  under  their  magnificent  dresses,  and  to  practise 
in  secret  several  other  austerities.  Their  fasts  and  ab- 
stinences became  more  rigid  than  ever;  but  were  carried 
on  with  so  much  simplicity,  and  such  a  total  absence  of 
display,  that  the  very  persons  who  habitually  took  their 
meals  in  company  with  them,  scarcely  remarked  their 
mortifications,  or  else  attributed  them  to  a  iwculiarity 
of  taste  or  the  observance  of  a  reg^imen.  Disciplines 
and  other  bodily  penances  of  a  very  severe  nature  were 
by  this  time  habitual  to  Francesca,  and  she  pei*severed 
in  them  to  the  end  of  her  life.  With  whatever  care 
they  concealed  all  these  things,  it  was  not  jjossible  that 
the  city  of  Home  should  remain  ignorant  of  their  i)iety 
and  their  generosity  to  the  poor.  The  common  j>t'oj)lo 
looked  upon  Francesca  and  Vannozza  as  two  saints;  mid 
tlieir  example  beg^n  to  tell  beneficially  upon  the  woiiH-n 
of  their  own  class.  Several  noble  ladies  were  inspired 
with  the  desire  to  walk  in  their  steps,  and  to  imitate 
their  virtues.  But  it  was  not  likely  that  Siitan  should 
behold  unmoved  the  work  of  grace  thus  advancing"  in 
the  hearts  of  these  two  3'oung'  servunt^"  of  God,  and 
throug-h  them  on  many  otliere.  He  cliateu  at  the  sight; 
and  now  bejnin  that  long*  series  of  attacks,  of  strug-ghv**, 
and  of  artifices,  by  which  ho  endeavoured  to  mar  the 
gflorious  progress  of  these  heroic  souls.  Almig-hty  Cuh{ 
seems  to  have  granted  to  the  prince  of  darkness,  m  San 
Francesca's  case,  a  permission  in  some  respocts  similar 
to  that  which  He  giive  him  with  reg-ard  to  His  servanr 
Job.  He  was  allowed  to  throw  temptations  in  her  way, 
to  cause  her  strang-e  sufferingfs,  to  pei-socute  her  l>y 
fearful  manifestations  of  his  visible  presence,  to  haunt 
her  under  various  shapes,  some  seductive  in  their  aj)- 

Cearance,  othera  rejnilsive  and  terrific  in  their  iiufure; 
ut  he  was  not  pei-mitted  (as,  thanks  be  to  (lod,  he 
never  is  permitted,)  to  deceive  or  to  injure  liis  faithhd 


OQ 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROUE. 


servant,  who  for  every  trial  of  the  sort  ohUined  Ect  s 
divine  favour  in  compensation ;  who  for  every  vision  of 
diabohcal  hoiTor,  was  allowed  a  ^lim|)S6  into  the  woihi 
of  glory ;  and  to  whom  at  a  later  period  was  up(X)inted 
a  heavenly  guardian  to  defend  her  against  the  violence 
of  her  infernal  foe. 

The  first  time  that  Satan  presented  himself  in  ^t 
visihle  form  to  Francesca's  sight,  ii'yd  gave  her  tii 
earnest  of  His  )>rotection  in  the  strife  ahout  to  be  waged 
between  her  and  the  old  serpent,  by  miraculously  re- 
vealing to  her  the  character  of  her  visitor.  It  was 
under  the  asj)ect  of  a  venerable  hermit,  emaciated  witli 
fasts  and  watchings,  that  he  entered  the  Pon?.iano 
])alace :  his  intention  was,  by  some  artful  words,  to  in- 
spire Fnincesca  with  aversion  and  disgust  for  the  soli- 
tary life,  aud  at  the  same  time  for  that  hidden  life 
which  she  so  zealously  practised  in  the  midst  of  the 
world.  He  was  shown  into  a  large  room,  whert*  the 
assembled  family  were  sitting  and  convei'sin^^'  toj.^ether. 
No  sooner  had  I'Vuncesca  set  her  eyes  upjn  him,  thjin 
she  was  sujiernatui-ally  enlightened  as  to  .hi."^  true  cha- 
racter ;  she  knew  at  once  the  di'eadful  eneio} ,  thus  for 
the  first  time  made  manifest  to  her  sight;  aad.  sud- 
denly clianging  Ci>l()ur;  she  rose  and  I'.'ft  the  rocm.  Vun- 
nozza  followed  (alai*med  at  her  hasty  departure ),  and 
found  her  in  the  or?}tory  kneeling  hefom  the  Crucifix, 
and  as  pale  as  death.  Su""  inquired  info  the  cause  of 
her  emotion ;  but  FrnJ^cf  c  simply  desired  her  to  return 
to  the  sitting  room,  L'.wI  r  ^aest  Lorenzo  to  disiuiss  the 
hermit.  As  soon  as  iie  was  departed,  she  re-appeai-ed 
amongst  them  as  serene  and  calm  as  usual ;  anu  to  no 
one  but  to  her  confessor  did  8he  mention  the  circum- 
stance. Yet  it  was  a  most  awfiil  moment,  that  first 
initiation  into  the  supernatural  world,  that  first  contact 
with  the  powers  of  darkness,  that  o|)ening  of  the  visible 
war  between  her  and  the  great  enemy.  No  wonder  that 
she  wfis  habitually  silent ;  her  soul  must  have  lived  in 
very  close  communion  with  the  mvisibh'  world,  and  the 
presence  of  God  must  have  been  realised  in  au  extitiur" 


I 


Cll.  HI.] 


91 .  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


13,1 


dinary  dearee  by  one  whose  spiritual  discerament  \sm 
80  miraculously  keen. 

A  more  oi-dinary  snare  was  the  tempter's  next  re- 
source, and  he  chose  as  his  instniment  a  person  of  piety 
and  virtue,  but  whose  human  fears  and  affections  were 
too  strong"  for  her  faith.  He  suggested  to  Cecilia,  the 
mother-in-law  of  the  two  saints,  who  was  most  fondly 
aH  ached  to  them,  and  maternally  solicitous  about  their 
healths,  that  the  ascetic  life  wliich  they  led  must  neces- 
sarily impair  it;  that  amusements  were  essential  to 
young  persons;  and  that  the  singuhu-ity  of  their  con- 
duct reflected  discredit  on  the  family.  Under  this  im- 
pi*ession,  she  strove  by  every  means  in  her  jwwer  to 
counteract  their  designs,  to  thwart  them  in  their  devo- 
tional and  charitable  practices,  and  to  indL<  e  them  to 
give  up  more  of  their  time  and  of  tiieir  attention  to  the 
world.  She  thus  gave  them  occasion  to  practise  a  very 
]>eculiar  kind  of  patience,  nnd  to  g:\in  the  more  merit  in 
the  eyes  of  Gotl,  in  that  they  hud  <laily  to  encounter  a 
sort  of  opjKwition  particularly  trying  to  young  and  ar- 
dent spirits.  It  is  related,  that  one  day,  when  they  had 
gently  but  steadily  refused  to  pay  some  visits  which, 
fur  from  l)eing  absolute  duties,  were  only  pretexts  for 
gossip  and  the  most  frivolous  conversations,  Francesca 
and  Vannozza  ha<l  retired  into  the  gtu'den  oratory ;  and 
after  s|)ending  sonr  3  time  in  prayer,  began  convei-sing 
together  on  the  life  which  the  early  Fathei'S  were  wont 
to  lead  in  the  deseits,  and  of  the  liappiness  it  must  be 
to  live  entii-ely  devoted  to  the  sei-vice  of  God,  and  to 
commune  with  Him  above,  far  from  the  distracting 
tlioughts  and  cares  of  the  world.  They  wen'  m  pic- 
turing to  tliemselves  the  manner  in  which  tl,  /  wouhl 
have  divided  their  lime  and  aminged  their  occupations 
under  similar  circumstances,  and  together  tiiey  made 
out  a  complete  rule  of  life. 

A))sorbed  in  the  subject,  Vannozza  exr^iimed,  with 
cliildliKe  simpHcity,  "  But  what  should  w«  have  to  eat, 
sister?"  and  Franc«»sca  replied,  "We  should  search  i'ot 
fruita  iu  the  desert,  deai-est;  and  God  Mould  surely  not 


:■     »:.   i, 
■*■■   *;. 


■  ■  ■    ■-  ^  ■'  -^^3 


■Ha 


wsw:m 


i\ 


i^ 


24 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


11 


li 


let  us  seek  in  vain."  As  slie  said  these  words  tht^jr 
rose  to  rotura  liome,  and  from  a  tree  which  ^rew  out  of 
a  mined  wall  on  one  side  of  the  i^arden  there  fell  at  her 
feet  a  quince  of  the  largest  size  and  most  shinin<^ 
colour,  and  another  similar  to  it  was  lying  in  Vannozza's 
path.  The  sisters  looked  at  each  other  in  silent  asto- 
nishment; for  the  time  of  the  year  was  April,  and  no- 
thing but  a  miracle  could  have  brought  these  apples  to 
muturitv  at  this  unwonted  season.  The  taste  of  the 
fruit  was  as  excellent  as  its  colour  was  beautiiid.  Tliey 
were  divided  amongst  the  members  of  the  family,  who 
wondered  at  the  marvels  which  seemed  continually  to 
attend  the  steps  of  Fmncesca.  She  was  profoundly 
gratefiil  for  such  favours,  but  piobably  marvelled  less 
than  others  at  their  occunence.  Her  youth ;  the  sim- 
plicity of  her  faith;  her  total  abstraction  from  worldly 
thoughts;  her  continual  study  and  meditation  of  the 
Holy  Scriptui-es  and  of  the  lives  of  the  Saints, — must 
have  necessai'ily  familiarised  her  mind  with  such  ideas. 
It  could  not  seem  incredible  to  her,  that  the  God  who 
in  less  favoured  times,  and  under  a  severer  dispensation, 
had  so  often  suspended  tlie  laws  of  nature,  in  order  to 
supjK)rt,  to  guide,  and  to  instruct  His  people;  that  the 
ouviour  who  had  turned  water  into  wine  by  a  single 
word.,  and  withered  the  unprofitable  fig-tree  by  a  look, — 
tshould  at  nil  timos  display  the  same  power  in  favour  of 
His  children,  in  ways  not  a  whit  more  marvellous  or 
myt^teiious. 

Cecilia  mado  one  more  eflroi-t  to  check  what  she  con- 
sidered exagg<  ration  in  the  mode  of  life  of  her  daught-ers- 
in-law.  She  urged  their  husbands  to  interfere,  and  by 
tl  -ir  authority  to  oblige  them  to  mix  more  with  the 
world.  But  Paluzzo  and  Lorenzo  had  too  deep  an 
e::t.eem  for  their  wives,  and  too  gi-eat  a  sense  of  the  ad- 
T}viif?iges  they  derived  fi-om  their  singidar  virtues,  to  be 
|t&i>;?i,  ded  into  pptung  a  restraint  on  their  actions. 
Si?f  e  s  fev  lunl  come  into  tlit;  fiiuiilv,  and  united  their 
pious  '  f!bjts  for  their  own  and  othei-s'  spiritual  improve- 
ment, disputc'ii  and  quoi-rels  hud  given  way  to  the  most 


CH.  IIl.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


25 


edifying"  concord.  The  servnnts,  moved  by  their  ex- 
ani])le,  performed  their  duties  witli  exeniplury  zesil,  fie- 
fjuented  the  churches  and  tiie  saeranienti*,  antl  abstained 
h-om  profane  or  idle  words.  They  accord ingfly  entrejited 
their  mother  to  give  up  her  fruitless  attempts,  and  allow 
the  two  young  women  liberty  to  follow  the  rule  of 
lifQ  they  bad  adopted ;  and  thus  put  an  end  to  the 
kindly  meant  but  trying  i)ersecution  they  had  gone 
through. 

Aoout  this  time  the  devil,  thwarted  in  his  design", 
but  always  on  the  watch,  was  jHirmitted  to  vent  LiS 
auger  against  Francesca  and  her  sister-in-lnw  in  a  way 
to  which  he  often  had  recouree,  and  which,  while  it 
seemed  to  display  a  momentary  power  over  their  bodies, 
only  proved  in  the  end  that  a  stronger  one  than  ho 
was  always  at  hand  to  defeat  his  malice,  and  snatch 
from  him  his  prize.  Fmncesca  and  Vanuozza  hnd  gone 
to  St.  Peter's  on  an  intensely  hot  day  in  Jtdy,  in  the 
vcur  1399.  Absorbed  in  nmver,  thev  had  hardly 
noticed  the  lapse  of  time,  and  twelve  o'clock  had 
struck  when  they  set  out  on  their  way  home.  In  order 
to  avoid  observation,  and  the  marks  of  veneration  which 
the  |)eople  lavisheil  ujwn  them  as  soon  as  they  set  eyes 
on  the  two  saints  (as  they  always  called  them),  thev 
chose  the  most  unfrequented  streets  they  could  find. 
The  heat  grew  intolenible.  The  sultry  air  seemed  on 
fire,  and  not  a  broath  stirred  it.  Exhausted  with 
fatigue,  their  mouths  parched  with  thii-st,  they  reached 
the  church  of  St.  Leonardo;  and  holding  ench  other's 
hands,  approached  the  brink  of  the  river,  in  order  to 
cool  their  biuiiing  lips  and  throb1)ing  heads  with  a  little 
water.  As  they  bent  over  the  stream  for  that  purpose, 
a  violent  blow  fj-om  an  invisible  arm  was  ainiril  at 
Fi-ancesca,  and  hurled  her  into  the  Tiber.  Vannozza  fell 
\\  ith  her ;  and,  cIusimhI  in  each  other's  arnis,  they  were 
itipidly  cairietl  away  by  the  current,  antl  saw  no  means 
of  escape.  "  They  were  lovely  in  their  lives,  and  in 
their  deaths  they  were  not  divided,"  might  well  have 
been  said  of  them,  had  the  watery  grave,  which  seemed 


J! 


i         ! 


;l 


SO 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


inovit4ible,  swuHowed  up  on  that  day  tlie  two  briiles  of 
the  I'onziuni.  liut  it  was  not  the  will  of  Clod  that  tliey 
should  fK>rish.  Human  aid  was  not  at  liand ;  the 
Ktieam  was  rapid,  the  current  deep,  and  the  eddies 
curled  around  them ;  but  they  cu11<hI  upon  God  with 
one  voice,  and  in  an  instant  the  wateif*,  as  if  instinct  with 
life,  and  oltodient  to  a  lieavenly  command,  bore  them 
g-ently  to  the  shore,  and  defwsited  them  unhurt  on  the 
jjreen  nuu-ji'in  of  the  river. 

About  this  time  also  a  supernatural  favour  of  the 
most  extraordinary  nature  was  vouchsafed  to  Fitmcesca. 
Her  ^iiardian  an^el,  who  was  one  day  to  accompany  her, 
not  by  an  invi.>iblo  presence  only,  as  in  the  case  of  all 
(Jhristians,  but,  by  a  mre  privileg^e  of  g-i-ace,  in  a  visible 
form,  ever  manifest  to  her  s))iritual  sight,  now  begtm  to 
reveal  himself  to  her  by  the  most  watchful  observance 
of  her  conduct.  At  all  times  and  in  all  places,  by  day 
and  by  nig-lit,  her  slig'htcst  faults  were  noticed  an^ 
punished  by  this  still  invisible,  but  now  evidently  pm- 
sent  monitor.  At  tlie  least  imperfection  in  her  conduct, 
before  she  had  time  to  accuse  and  to  condemn  herself, 
she  felt  the  blow  of  a  mysterious  hand,  the  warning"  of 
an  ever-attentive  g-uardian  ;  and  the  sound  of  that  mys- 
tical chastisement  was  audible  to  others  also.  Great 
was  the  astonishment  of  those  who  could  thus  discern 
something"  of  God's  dealings  with  this  chosen  soul. 
Once,  when  slie  liad  abstained  throug-h  human  respect 
from  inteiTuptinp  the  coui-se  of  a  very  frivolous  and 
useless  conversation,  the  warning*  was  inflicted  with 
such  seventy  that  she  bore  the  muk  of  the  blow  for 
Beveinl  succeeding"  day^. 

Such  a  i-apid  advance  in  holiness,  sucli  new  and  ever- 
increasing*  virtues,  were  the  results  of  this  supernatnial 
tuition,  tijat  Satan  now  attemi>ted  to  seduce  her  by  the 
wiliest  of  his  avvifices,  the  nuu«;t«r-piece  of  his  art,  his 
favounte  sin, — "  the  pride  tliat  apes  humility."  So 
many  miiiicles  wroug-ht  in  her  favour,  such  strange  re- 
vehitions  of  (lod's  peculiar  love  for  her  soul,  awak^'iied 
in  Fi'ancesca's  mind,  or  rather  the  devil  suggested  td 


CH.  III.]  ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


27 


hor  the  tlioug-lit,  that  it  might  be  bfttt«r  to  conrcml  them 
Innn  her  director,  or  at  h'ast  to  acriuaint  him  with  only 
a  j)ortion  of  the  W()n(h!rs  tliut  were  wroiiy^lit  in  her  be- 
Imlt";  and  accordiiig-Iy,  tiie  next  time  she  went  to  con- 
fession she  refraineil  fi'om  mentioning  the  signal  gmce 
which  had  been  vouchsafed  to  aer.  At  the  very  msiant 
she  was  thrown  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  recognised 
tiie  hand  of  her  heavenly  monitor  in  the  blow  which 
thus  warned  her  of  the  grievous  error  into  which  she 
was  falling.  In  that  short  moment  she  had  time  to 
])erceive  and  acknowledge  it ;  and  with  intense  contri- 
tion she  confessed  to  her  director  the  false  humility 
which  had  beguiled  her  into  a  dangerous  reserve,  with 
jMM'fect  o[)enness  revealed  to  him  tlio  whole  of  Goil'a 
))ast  and  [)resent  dealings  with  her  soul,  and  ex|)lain(><l 
to  him  the  meaning  of  what  had  just  taken  place.  Don 
Antonio  listened  with  astonishment  and  gratitude,  and 
thus  addressed  her :  "  You  have  just  esca j)ed  from  a 
great  danger,  my  daughter;  for  those  who  aim  at  pr- 
fection  cannot  conceal  any  thing  from  their  spiritual 
guide  without  running  the  risk  of  delusion.  By  your 
n»istaken  silence  you  were  complying  with  the  sugges- 
tions of  Satan,  who,  under  the  semblance  of  humility, 
was  "seklng  to  awaken  in  vou  a  secret  and  baneful  pride. 
You  would  have  been  lefl  by  degrees  to  over-estmiate 
these  supernatural  favours,  to  deem  them  not  merely 
means  of  grace,  but  rewards  due  to  your  merits ;  to 
despise  those  to  whom  God  does  not  grrmt  them ;  and 
to  give  yourself  up  to  extravi.gant  and  unauthorised 
austerities  in  oi*der  to  secure  their  continuance,  and  to 
distinjiinsh  yourself  in  your  own  and  others'  sight.  I 
shoidd  have  forbidden  you  to  practise  them  ;  you  would 
have  been  tempted  to  renounce  my  guidance,  to  take 
one  confessor  after  another,  until  you  had  found  one 
weak  or  blind  enough  to  anjn-ove  your  self-will;  and 
then  the  arch-enemy  of  mankind,  under  the  gju-b  of  nn 
anirel  of  light,  would  have  made  you  the  prey  of  his 
delusions,  till  at  last  you  might  have  fallen  from  one 


U'i 


;  I 


28 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROMR. 


error  into  unotlier,  nnd  mnde  shipwrork  of  your  faith. 
Such  has  heen  the  dowmvjird  coui*se  of  iriiiny  a»(ml,  tiiut 
has  hej^uii  ])y  yiohlinf^'  to  a  false  ImmiHtv — the  otfs|»ringf 
of  pride — and  has  ended  in  sin  and  iierdition." 

From  that  time  foi-^^'ard,  Fmncesca  waa  on  her 
canard  a^inst  every  species  of  pride  and  self-rehance, 
Iiowever  dispfiiised  ami  i*efined.  She  i-elated  her  faults 
ond  temptations,  the  graces  she  received  and  the  fa- 
vours she  ohtained,  with  the  same  childlike  oi)enne88 
and  simplicity.  It  was  at  the  ag-e  of  sixtc^en  that  she 
was  thus  advanceil  in  the  science  of  the  saints;  and 
every  day  her  virtues  and  her  piety  increased. 


CIIAPTEU  IV. 

THE  BIRTH  OP  FRANCK^CA^S  PIRST  Cntl.D  — IIRR  CARR  IM  IIIR  EDUC\« 
TlOlf — 8HK  UNDBKTAKE8  THE  MAMAnRMRNT  OP  HER  PATHRR- 
IX-LAWg  H0U8RH0I.D  — A  FAMINE  AND  PPJ»TII.ENrR  IN  ROMP,— 
FRANCE8CA*8  LABOURS  POR  THE  SICK  AND  POOR— THE  MIRACLES 
WROUOHT  IN  HKR  BBHALP. 

The  year  1400  was  ojienin*^  under  melanclioly  auspices, 
lionifnce  IX.  was  at  that  moment  in  (tossession  of  the 
IK)ntifical  t]n*one,  and  celebrating  the  jubilee,  the  ])e- 
riodical  recurrence  of  which  at  the  end  of  every  fifty 
vears  liad  l)een  d(?creed  by  Clement  VI.  in  1350;  but 
ilome  was  even  then  in  a  lainenta))Ie  state,  and  presasfes 
wei*e  not  wanting  of  still  more  disastrous  times.  The 
ware  fj)r  the  succession  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  be- 
tween Louis  of  Anjou  and  Ladislas  Durazzo,  wera  agi- 
tating the  whole  of  Italy ;  and  the  capital  of  tlie  Chns- 
tian  world  was  exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  the  contending 
j)arties.  The  powerful  faction  of  the  Colonnas,  in  arms 
nurainst  the  Pope,  invaded  the  Capitol  at  the  head  of  a 
numerous  body  of  insurgents  on  horseback  and  on  foot; 
and  the  air  resounded  with  the  cries  of  "  Lonj^  live  the 


CII.  IV.J  ST.  PIUNCES  OF  ROME.  "9$ 

people!  Dentil  to  the  tymnt  Bonifiioo  IX.!"  On  tlmt 
diiv  the  si«;Tjal  was  piven  lor  a  <livision  ot'iuii-ties,  which 
leJ  shnrtly  ut'tei'M-ai'ds  to  the  npimllinpf  tnip'tly  which 
(lecinmt<>(l  the  nohility  of  the  Ettirual  City  uiiil  deliig'eil 
her  streets  with  blooil. 

Lorenzo  Ponziuno,  from  his  rank  and  his  crent  |k>s- 
sessions,  os  well  as  from  his  fidelity  to  the  Church  und 
the  St)vereijrn  Pontiff,  wcs  08|)eciufly  marke<l  out  as  an 
enemy  by  the  advei*8<?  faction.  But  while  on  every  side 
the  stoim  was  brewiii}::,  and  the  as|)ect  of  j)ublic  afliiirs 
each  dav  more  gloomy,  a  blessing"  wus  giimted  to  him 
which  for  the  lost  five  veare  he  had  ardently  desired. 
The  ex|)ectiition  of  an  heir  to  the  family  of  Ponziaiio 
filled  him  and  his  parents  with  inexjiresisiible  delight. 
Fmncesca,  in  the  nieantimc,  was  incessantly  occupied  in 
i*ecommending  to  God  the  child  she  was  about  to  t>ear; 
ond  offei-ed  uj)  her  every  little  act  of  devotion  in  its  b<>half, 
with  the  hojH}  of  drawing  down  the  Divine  blesning  on 
its  future  existence.  In  the  same  year  she  was  happily 
delivered  of  a  son,  who  was  immediately  btiptisetl  in 
the  church  of  Santa  Cecilia  in  Trastevere,  on<l  i-eceivfd 
the  name  of  Giovanni  Baptista.  It  was  not  ut  that 
time  the  custom  for  ladies  of  rank  to  nui'se  their  chil- 
dren; but  Francesca  set  aside  uU  sjich  considerations, 
and  never  conse  ited  to  foi*ego  a  mother's  sacred  privi- 
lege. She  did  not  intrust  lier  child  for  a  moment  to 
the  care  of  others,  afraid  that,  in  her  absence,  the  utter- 
ance of  unworthy  sentiments,  bad  manners  and  habits, 
which  even  in  infancy  may  cause  im|)iession8  not  easily 
eradicated,  should  taint  with  the  least  evil  the  heart 
and  mind  of  her  son.  It  is  remarkable  how  careful 
the  holy  mothei-s  which  we  read  of  in  tho  lives  of  the 
Saints  ap|)ear  to  have  been  of  the  circumstances  att<»n«I- 
ing  the  infancy  of  their  cliildren, — that  period  during 
which  we  ara  apt  to  sup|>ose  tiiat  no  impressions  can 
be  given  or  received.  Are  we  not  [)erhaps  in  cri-or  on 
that  jioint?  As  nmch  that  we  read  and  apparently 
forget  leaves  notwithstanding  a  certain  deposit  in  ouf 
miuds^  which  coim»  into  phiy  wliou  cuUud  forth  by  «»• 


\>, 


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23  WEST  MA      STREfT 

WEBSTM.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)  •72-4503 


4P> 


0 


SO 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


sociation,  so,  may  not  certain  sights,  sounds,  and  words, 
not  understood  at  the  time,  impart  a  certain  colour, 
stamp  certain  imag-es  on  the  mind  of  an  infant,  which, 
however  dim  and  confused,  deepen  and  grow  with  it  as 
it  expands?  There  have  been  curious  psycholoo;ical  in- 
stances of  names,  of  languages,  of  dormant  recollections, 
reawakening  as  it  were  under  a  peculiar  condition  of  the 
nervous  system,  and  which  could  only  be  traced  to  im- 
pressions received  in  the  earliest  stages  of  existence. 

Francesca,  in  obedience  to  her  director,  as  well  as 
cnided  by  her  own  sense  of  duty,  modified  for  the  time 
being  her  usual  mode  of  hfe,  and  occupied  herself  with 
the  care  of  her  child  in  preference  to  all  other  observ- 
ances of  charity  or  of  devotion.  She  did  not  complain 
or  regret  that  she  had  to  give  up  her  habitual  religious 
exercises,  in  order  to  tend  and  to  nurse  the  little  crea- 
ture whom  she  looked  upon  as  the  gift  of  God,  and 
whose  careful  training  the  best  offering  she  could  make 
in  return.  The  joy  which  she  had  felt  in  her  infant's 
birth  was  marred  by  the  death  of  her  father,  who, 
when  his  grandson  was  placed  in  his  arms,  exclaimed  in 
the  words  of  St.  Simeon,  "  Lo^d,  now  lettest  Thou  thy 
servant  depart  in  peace ;"  and  the  words  seem  to  have 
been  prophetic,  for  he  died  almost  immediately  after- 
wards, and  was  buried  in  the  vaults  of  Santa  Agnese, 
in  the  Piazza  Nuova.  At  a  later  period,  when  that 
church  was  reconstructed,  his  remains  were  transported 
to  the  cloistera  of  Tor  Di  Specchi,  Wiiere  the  simple  in- 
scription, "  Here  lies  Paul  Bussa,"  remains  to  this  day. 
Francesca,  in  pursuance  of  her  desire,  not  only  to  ex- 
clude evil,  but  to  infuse  good  dispositions  at  the  earliest 
possible  period  into  her  baby*s  soul,  lost  no  opportunity 
of  imparting  to  him  the  first  notions  of  religion.  Before 
he  could  speak,  she  used  to  repeat  to  him  every  day  the 
Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Hail  Mary,  clasp  his  little  hands 
together,  and  direct  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  to  the 
images  of  Jesus  f .  jd  Maiy,  whose  names  were  of  course 
the  first  words  he  learned  to  utter.  She  checked  in  him 
by  grave  looks,  and  slight  punishments  fitted  to  hu 


CH.  fV.J  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME  31 

Rg-e,  every  ebullition  of  self-will,  obstinacy,  and  anger; 
and  later,  of  deceit,  envy,  and  immodesty.  Thouffli  she 
had  the  most  tender  mother's  heart,  she  seldom  indulg-ed 
in  passionate  caresses,  and  never  lei't  unehastised  any  of 
his  faults,  or  gave  way  in  any  instance  to  his  tears  and 
impatience.  When  others  objected  that  it  was  absurd 
to  expect  self-command  iirom  a  ci-eature  whose  reason 
was  not  developed,  she  maintained  that  habits  of  self- 
control  are  to  be  acquired  at  the  earliest  age,  and  that 
the  benefit  thus  obtained  extends  to  the  whole  of  life. 
The  child  thus  trained  lived  to  prove  the  wisdom  of  her 
views,  and  became  in  difficult  times  the  support  of  his 
family  and  an  honour  to  their  name. 

About  a  year  after  the  birth  of  Giovanni  Baptista, 
Cecilia,  Lorenzo's  mother,  died.  Andi*eazzo  JPonzi- 
ano,  and  both  his  sons,  folly  conscious  of  the  prudence 
and  virtue  of  Francesca,  resolved  to  place  her  at  tlie 
head  of  the  house,  and  to  commit  to  her  alone  the 
superintendence  of  their  domestic  alBTuirs  and  the  whole 
management  of  the  household.  Dibh*e?>sed  at  the  pro- 
posal, she  pleaded  her  youth  and  inexperience,  and 
urged  that  Vannozza,  as  the  wife  of  the  eldest  brother, 
was  as  a  matter  of  course  entitled  to  that  position.  Van- 
nozza, however,  pleaded  with  such  eagerness  that  it  was 
her  most  anxious  desire  not  to  occupy  it,  and  that  all 
she  wished  was  to  be  Francesca's  disciple  and  compa- 
nion, that,  overcome  by  the  general  importunity,  she 
found  hereelf  obliged  to  comply.  Now  it  was  that  her 
merit  shone  conspicuously.  Placed  at  the  head  of  the 
most  opulent  house  in  Rome,  no  symptom  of  pride,  of 
haughtiness,  or  of  self-complacency,  ever  revealed  itself 
m  her  looks  or  in  her  actions.  She  was  never  heard  to 
speak  a  harsh  or  impatient  word.  Fii*m  in  requiring 
flora  every  pei'son  in  her  house  the  proper  fulfilment  ot 
their  duties,  she  did  it  in  the  gentlest  manner.  Always 
courteous  to  her  servants,  she  urged  them  to  serve  God 
with  diligence,  and  watched  over  their  souls  redeemed 
by  His  pi-ecious  blood.  Her  address  was  so  winning 
and  persuasive,  that  it  seldom  failed  of  its  effect.    She 


1 


i   I 


32 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


contrived  to  arrange  the  hours  of  their  labour  with  so 
much  order  and  skill,  that  each  had  sufficient  leisure  to 
hear  Mass,  to  attend  the  parochial  instructions  on  Sun- 
days and  holidays,  to  frequent  the  Sacraments,  and  join 
every  day  in  familv  pi-ayer, — ftilfilling  the  whole  of  a 
Chiistian's  duty.  If  oy  any  chance  (and  it  was  a  rare 
one  in  a  house  thus  governed)  a  quarrel  arose  between 
any  of  the  servants,  she  was  always  ready  to  come  foj*- 
ward,  appease  angry  passions,  and  reconcile  differences. 
If,  in  so  doing,  slio  had  occasion  to  speak  with  what 
she  considered  undue  severity  to  one  oi  the  parties,  she 
would  immediately  apologise  with  teai-s,  and  in  the 
humblest  manner  entreat  forgiveness.  This  extreme 
sweetness  of  disposition,  however,  did  not  degenemte 
into  weakness;  and  she  could  testify  the  utmost  displea- 
and  reproved  wi^h  energy  when  offences 


sure. 


were 


committed 


agamst 


God.     It 


was  intolerable  to  her 
that  His  Divine  Majesty  should  be  insulted  in  her 
abode ;  and  she,  the  gentlest  and  most  unassuming  of 
women,  could  display  on  such  occasions  the  greatest 
fiimness. 

One  diay,  it  is  recorded,  several  gentlemen  had  been 
dining  with  Lorenzo;  and  one  of  them  after  dinner  drew 
fi'om  his  pocket  a  book  wliich  contained  a  treatise  on 
magic.  Loi-enzo  took  it  up,  and  was  examining  it  with 
some  curiosity,  when  his  wife  stole  noiselessly  behind 
him,  took  it  out  of  his  hands,  and  threw  it  into  the  fire. 
Nettled  by  this  proceeding,  her  husband  reproachec!  her 
in  rather  bitter  terms  for  her  incivility  to  their  guest ; 
but  she,  who  was  habitually  submissive  to  his  least 
word,  only  replied  thpt  she  could  not  regret  the  destmc- 
tion  of  what  might  have  proved  to  many  an  occasion  of 
sin.  She  inexorably  consi^ed  to  the  ilames  in  the 
same  manner  every  bad  book  that  came  in  her  way. 

Her  tender  charity  was  evinced  when  any  of  the  in- 
mates of  the  palr.co  were  ill.  She  was  then  the  affection- 
ate niu^e  of  the  sufferei-s,  and  spent  whole  nights  by  their 
bedside.  Nothing  ever  discouraged  or  weaned  her;  the 
lowest  servant  in  the  house  was  attended  to,  as  if  she  haj 


m- 
Dion- 
tlieir 

the 
hud 


CH.  IV.]  8T.  FBANCES  OF  BOME.  t$ 

been  her  own  mother  or  sister.  More  anxious  still  for 
their  soul's  health  than  their  body's,  she  was  known  to 
go  out  hei-self  alone  at  night  in  search  of  a  priest  when 
a  sudden  case  of  danger  had  occurred  beneath  her  roof. 
Her  charity  was  in  one  instance  miraculously  rewarded 
by  a  direct  interposition  of  Providence,  in  a  matter  ap- 
parently trifling,  but  on  which,  humanly  speaking,  her 
dear  sister  Vannozza's  existence  seemed  to  tm-n.  She 
was  dangerously  ill,  and  had  been  for  days  unable  to 
swallow  any  food ;  the  very  sight  of  it  caused  lier  in- 
tolerable nausea ;  and  from  sheer  exhaustion  her  life  was 
reduced  to  so  low  an  ebb,  that  the  worst  was  apprehended. 
On  Francesca's  inquiiing  if  she  could  think  of  any  thing 
which  she  could  imagine  it  ])Ossible  to  eat,  she  named  a 
ceitain  fish,  which  was  not  in  season  at  that  time,  'i'he 
mai-kets  were  scoured  by  the  servants,  but  naturally  in 
vain,  and  thev  returned  empty-handed  to  the  dejected 
Francesca,  who,  kneelinof  by  the  bedside  of  lier  h-iend, 
betook  hei-self,  with  arduous  faith  and  childlike  sim- 
plicity, to  prayer.  When  she  raised  her  liead,  the 
much-wished-for  article  of  food  was  lying  before  her ; 
and  the  fii'st  morael  of  it  thatVannozza  eat  restoi-ed  her 
to  health. 

She  had  been  about  a  year  at  the  head  of  her 
father-in-law's  house,  when  Home  fell  under  the  double 
sconrge  of  famine  and  pestilence.  The  Ponziani  w'fere 
immensely  rich,  and  their  palace  fuiiiished  with  every 
kind  of  previsions.  Fraijcesca  forbade  her  servants  to 
send  away  a  single  poor  pei*son  without  relieving  their 
wants;  and  not  content  with  this,  she  sought  them  out 
hei-self,  invited  them  to  come  to  her,  and  made  them 
continual  presents  of  com,  wine,  oil,  and  clothing.  She 
exhoi-ted  them  to  bear  their  sufferings  with  patience, 
to  retui-n  to  God  and  to  their  religious  duties,  and  to 
stiive  by  fervent  prayer  to  a[)pease  the  Divine  wrath, 
provoked  by  the  crimes  of  mankind.  Vannozza  and  her- 
self were  indefatig-able  in  theu*  visits  to  the  hospitals 
and  the  out-of-the-way  cornel's  of  the  city. 

Andreazzo  Ponziano,  a  good  man,  but  not  a  saint^ 


34 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


^^  alarmed  at  the  excessive  liberality  of  his  daughter- 
in-law,  and  feai'ed  that  it  would  end  in  jjiuducipg*  a  famine 
in  his  own  house.  He  began  by  prudently  withdmwing 
from  their  hands  the  key  of  the  granary ;  and  then,  for 
greater  security,  afraid  perhaps  of  yielding  to  their 
entreaties,  which  he  was  not  accustomed  to  resist,  he 
took  to  selling  whatever  com  he  possessed  beyond 
what  was  required  for  the  daily  consumption  of  the 
family.  Nothing,  therefore,  remained  in  the  corn-loft 
but  a  huge  heap  of  straw.  The  provident  old  man  fol- 
lowed the  same  plan  with  his  cellar,  and  sold  all  the 
wine  it  contained,  with  the  exception  of  one  cask,  which 
was  reserved  for  his  own  and  his  children's  use. 

Meanwhile  the  scarcity  x^ent  on  increasing  every 
day,  and  the  number  of  starving  Wretches  in  proi^i-tion. 
Francesca,  unable  to  meet  their  demands,  ana  still  more 
incapable  of  leaving  them  to  perish,  braved  at  last  all 
false  shame  and  repugnance,  and  resolved  with  Yannozza 
to  go  into  the  streets  and  beg  for  the  poor.  Then 
were  seen  those  two  noble  and  iovely  women  standing 
at  the  doora  of  the  churches,  knocking  at  the  gat«s  of 
the  palace,  following  the  rich  in  the  public  places, 
pleading  with  tears  the  ca'ise  of  the  sufferers,  gladly 
I'eceiving  the  abundant  alms  that  were  sometimes  be- 
stowed upon  them,  and  not  less  gladly  the  sneers,  the 
repulses,  the  insulting  words  that  often  fell  to  thf.ir 
share  in  these  pilgrimages  of  mercy.  At  last  ohe 
famine  reached  its  height.  At  every  side, — on  the 
pavement,  in  the  comere  of  the  streets, — ^were  lying 
crowds  of  persons,  barely  clothed  with  a  few  tattered 
rags,  haggard  with  hunger,  wasted  with  fever,  and 
culling  upon  death  to  end  their  suffeiings.  It  was  a 
grievous,  a  homble  sight, — one  that  well-nia:h  broke 
the  heai't  of  onr  saint.  The  meanings  of  the  dying 
were  in  her  eara;  the  expression  of  their  ghastly  faces 
haunted  her  day  and  night.  She  would  have  gladly 
shed  her  blood  for  them,  and  fed  them  with  her  life. 
A  sudden  inspiration  came  over  her  one  day:  "Come 
to,  the  com-lofty"  she  exclaimed,  turning  to  Yannozza, 


!■• 


en.  IV.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  35 

and  to  Clara,  a  favourite  and  pious  servant  of  theirs ; 
"  Come  with  me  to  the  eom-lott ;  let  us  see  if  amonp^t 
the  straw  we  may  not  succeed  in  finding*  a  few  grains 
of  com  for  the  poor."  And  on  their  knees  for  several 
hours  those  patient,  loving"  women  sifted  the  straw,  and  by 
dint  of  labour  collected  about  a  measui*  of  com,  which 
they  were  bearings  away  in  trium[)h,  when  the  God 
who  caused  the  widow's  oil  not  to  fail,  and  made  her 
baiTel  of  meal  last  throug-h  a  scarcely  more  g-rievous 
famine,  was  preparing*  their  reward.  Lorenzo  had 
entered  the  granary  just  as  they  were  cjuTying"  off 
their  hard-eamed  treasure,  and,  looking  about  him, 
beheld  in  place  of  the  straw  which  was  lying"  there  a 
moment  before,  40  measures  of  bi-ig-ht  yellow  com,  so 
shining  and  so  full,  says  Francesca's  earliest  bio- 
grapher, that  it  seemed  as  though  it  had  been  raise«l 
in  Paradise,  and  i*eaped  there  by  angels.  In  silent 
astonishment  he  pointed  out  to  them  the  miraculous 
supply,  and  must  have  felt  in  that  hour  what  such 
vii-tue  as  his  wife's  and  his  sister's  could  even  in  this 
world  win  of  mercy  at  God's  hands.  But  com  was 
not  enougfb ;  the  sick  wanted  wine.    They  came,  poor 

Eallid  ghosts,  just  risen  from  their  beds  of  sufferinop,  to 
eg"  it  of  Francesca;  aged  men  and  delicate  children, 
mothei-s  with  infants  at  their  breasts,  poor  worn-out 
priests  sinking  with  exhaustion,  and  yet  willing  to 
assist  others,  they  had  recourse  to  her  lor  a  little  wine 
to  strengthen  them  in  their  works  of  mercy,  and  she 
had  no  wine  to  give,  save  out  of  the  single  cask  iu  tho 
cellar.  She  gave  it,  nevertheless ;  and  day  after  day 
drew  from  it,  till  not  a  drop  was  left.  Andreazzo,  pro- 
voked, waxed  very  wroth;  he  had  never  before  been 
angry  with  Francesca,  but  now  he  stonned  and  raved 
at  her;  he  had  been  to  the  cellar  to  see  the  wine  drawn 
for  that  dav's  uf»e,  and  not  a  di"op  was  in  the  cask. 
"  Charity  indeed !"  he  exclaimed,  "  charity  begins  at 
home;  a  pretty  sort  of  virtue  this,  which,  under  the  pre- 
text of  assL^tinp^  strangers,  introduces  penuiy  and  priva- 
tion into  the  midst  of  a  pwson's  own  tamily.'' 


M  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 

Hd  vented  his  anger  in  bitter  reproaches  j  Lorenzo 
and  Paluzzo  were  also  inclined  to  take  his  part,  and 
joined  in  severely  blaming"  Francesca.  She  the  while, 
with  a  gentle  voice  and  quiet  manner,  breathing  most 
probably  a  secret  prayer  to  her  who  at  the  marriage- 
least  of  Cana  turned  to  her  Son  and  said,  "  They  have 
no  wine,"  doubtless  with  an  inward  assurance  that  God 
would  befiiend  her  in  an  extraordinary,  but  not  to 
her  an  unprecedented  manner,  thus  addressed  them : 
"Do  not  be  angry;  let  us  go  to  the  cellar;  may 
be,  through  God's  mercy,  that  the  cask  may  be  liul 
by  this  time."  They  followed  her  with  an  involun- 
tary submission;  and  on  reaching  the  spot,  saw  her 
turn  the  cock  of  the  barrel,  out  of  which  there  instantly 
flowed  the  most  exquisite  wine,  which  Andreazzo  ac- 
knowledged to  be  superior  to  any  he  had  ever  tasted. 
The  venerable  old  man  turned  to  his  daughter-in-law, 
and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child^  dispose  henceforward  of  every 
thing  I  possess,  and  r  "'ply  without  end  those  alms 
that  have  gained  you  Ka"our  in  God's  sight." 

The  report  of  this  i  .  ade  spread  far  and  wide;  and, 
in  spite  of  her  humility,  Fmncesca  did  not  object  to  its 
being  divulged,  as  it  testified  to  the  Divine  virtue  of 
almsgiving,  and  encouraged  the  rich  to  increase  their 
liberality,  and  minister  more  abimdantly  to  the  suffering 
members  of  Christ. 

A  kind  of  religious  awe  seems  to  have  taken  pos- 
session of  Lorenzo's  mind,  at  the  sight  of  so  many  won- 
ders wrought  in  his  house.  The  great  esteem  in  which 
he  had  always  held  his  wife,  now  took  the  form  of  a 
profound  veneration.  He  recommended  her  to  follow 
in  every  respect  the  divine  inspirations  she  received, 
and  left  her  entirely  fi-ee  to  order  her  life  and  dispose 
of  her  time  in  any  way  she  thought  fit.  Francesca, 
aftei'  consulting  with  her  dii'ector,  took  advantage 
of  this  permission  to  execute  what  had  been  her 
long-cherished  desire.  Selling  all  her  rich  dresses,  her 
jewels,  and  her  ornaments,  she  distributed  the  mone^ 


CH.  v.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


37 


Amongst  a  number  of  poor  families,  and  from  that  time 
forward  never  wore  herself  any  other  g-own  than  one  of 
coarse  dark-o^-een  cloth.  Her  mortifications  became  so 
continual  and  severe,  her  fjists  so  rig-id,  that  it  is  difficult 
to  conceive  how  her  healtii  could  have  sustained  them 
without  miraculous  sujiport,  or  how  she  can  have  found 
time  for  all  her  duties,  and  the  incredible  number  of 
good  works  which  she  daily  performed.  When  we 
consider  that  she  was  unremitting*  in  her  attention  to 
lier  children,  that  she  was  never  known  to  neg-lect  the 
dilig-ent  superintendence  of  household  aifaii-s,  that  she 
repeatedly  visited  the  hospitals  and  the  poor  sick  in 
their  houses,  that  moraing*  and  evening-  she  went  to  the 
churches  where  indulgences  were  to  be  gained,  recited 
numerous  vocal  pmyers,  often  "spent  hours  in  contem- 
plation, and  in  the  garden  oratory,  where  with  Van- 
nozza,  Clara,  and  Rita  Celli,  a  devout  young  persou  who 
was  admitted  into  their  intimacy,  she  i-eiid  spiritual 
books  or  conversed  on  religious  subjects, — c»ur  admii-a- 
tion  is  quickened;  for  that  zeal  and  strong  will  could 
work  wonders  all  but  incomprehensible  to  those  who  have 
not  put  their  shoulder  to  the  wheel  in  good  earnest,  or 
learat  to  appreciate  the  priceless  value  of  eveiy  minute 
of  this  short  life. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TBB  BIRTH  OF  FRANCESCa's  SECOND  SON— HIS  SUPERNATURAL  GIFTS 
—  THE  BIRTH  OF  HER  DAUGHTER — SATANIC  ATTACKS  UPON 
TRANCESCA — TROUBLES  OF  ROME  —  FRANCRSCA'S  HUSBAND  IS 
SEVERRLT  WOUNDED  —  HER  ELDEST  SON,  WHEN  GIVEN  UP  AS  A 
HOSTAGE  TO  TUB  NEAPOLITANS,  IS  MIRACULOUSLY  RESTORED  TO 
HER. 

Fhancesca  had  just  attained  the  age  of  twenty  when 
her  second  son  was  boi-n.  He  was  baptised  on  the  day 
of  his  birth,  ^4  received  the  name  of  Giovanni  Evan- 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMV. 


t  i 


gelista.  The  contemporary  biographer,  some  of  wlioso 
saying's  liave  been  already  quoteu,  mentions  of  tliis 
ciiild  that  he  was  endowed  with  wonderful  gifts  of 
grace,  and  that  the  love  of  God  was  manifested  in  liim 
even  before  he  could  speak.  In  his  quaint  language  he 
thus  describes  him :  '^  Evann^elista  was  old  in  sense, 
small  in  body,  great  in  souT,  resplendent  in  beauty, 
angel-Iike  in  all  his  ways."  He  might  well  have  been 
termed,  in  familiar  language,  his  mother's  own  child  ; 
for  in  his  veriest  infancy  his  only  pleasure  was  to  be 
carried  into  churches,  or  to  g^ive  alms  to  the  needy, 
especially  to  the  poor  religious,  for  whom  he  had  a 
special  predilection.  Francesca's  delight  in  this  lovely 
little  infant  was  indescribable.  He  was  to  her  as  one 
of  God's  own  angels,  and  tears  of  joy  filled  her  eyes  as 
she  mused  on  the  extraordinary  siffns  of  grace  which 
he  daily  evinced.  Supernatural  had  been  the  mother's 
virtues,  supernatural  were  the  qualities  of  the  child ; 
at  the  age  of  three  years  old  he  was  encjpwed  with  the 
gift  of  prophecy,  and  the  faculty  of  reading*  the  un- 
uttered  thoughts  of  men's  hearts. 

Singular  instances  of  this  power  are  on  record.  JTe 
was  in  his  mother's  arms  one  day,  when  two  mendi- 
cant friains  approached  the  Ponziaiiu  Palace.  Instantly 
stretching  out  his  little  hands,  Evangelista  took  fi'om 
Francesca  the  alms  she  was  wont  to  bestow  on  such 
visitors,  and  held  it  out  to  them ;  but  at  the  same  time 
looking  steadfastly  at  one  of  the  monks,  he  said  to  him, 
"Why  will  you  put  off  this  holy  habit?  you  will  wear 
a  finer  one;  but  woe  to  you  who  forget  your  vow  of 
poverty." 

The  fi'iar  coloured  and  turned  away;  but  it  was 
soon  evident  that  the  words  were  ppjphetic,  for  within 
a  short  time,  and  after  obtaining  l  bishopric  through 
a  simoniacal  act,  the  unhappy  man  died  a  violent  death. 
That  same  year,  Evangelista  was  in  his  parent's  room 
one  day ;  and  his  father  taking  him  up  on  his  knees, 
was  playing  with  him,  and  devouring  him  with  kisses. 
In  the  midst  of  his  spoii;,  the  child  tmned  suddenly 


Il 


CH.  v.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROM'?. 


no 


pale,  and  laying'  hold  of  a  dagger  which  had  heen  loft 
on  the  table,  he  placed  the  point  of  it  against  Lnrenzo*s 
Fide,  and  said  to  him,  as  he  looked  up  into  Iiis  face  \\  ith 
a  strang-e  melancholy  smile,  "  Thus  will  they  do  to  you, 
my  father."  And  it  so  happened  that  at  the  time  of 
the  invasion  of  Home  by  the  troops  of  Ladislas  Durazzo, 
the  lord  of  Ponziano  was  dangerously  wounded  in  the 
exact  place  and  manner  which  liis  little  son  had  pointed 
out. 

Evangelista  was  not  quite  three  years  old  when  his 
little  sister  Agnese  was  bora,  who  in  beauty,  heavenly 
s^veetness  of  temj)er,  and  precocious  piety,  proved  the 
exact  counterpart  of  her  brother.  Soon  after  her  con- 
finement, Francesca  had  a  vision  which  impressed  her 
with  the  belief  ^hat  God  would  one  day  claim  this  child 
as  His  own.  8he  saw  a  dove  of  dazzling  whiteness, 
bearing  in  its  beak  a  tiny  lighted  taper,  enter  the  room ; 
and  after  making  tw;  or  three  circles  in  the  air,  it 
stooped  over  Agnese's  cradle,  touched  her  brow  and 
limbs  with  the  taper,  gently  fluttered  its  wings,  and  flew 
away.  Looking  upon  tms  as  a  sign  that  the  little 
maiden  would  oe  called  to  the  monastic  life,  she 
brought  her  up  as  a  precious  deposit  only  lent  her  for 
a  time,  and  to  be  delivered  up  at  no  distant  period. 
With  even  stricter  care  than  she  had  used  with  her 
brother,  if  that  were  possible,  she  watched  over  the 
little  girl ;  never  leaving  her  for  a  single  moment,  and 
performing  towards  her  the  oflices  of  a  sei-vant  as  well 
as  of  a  mother.  She  kept  her  in  complete  retirement, 
never  taking  her  out  of  doors  except  to  church ;  teach- 
ing her  to  love  Jesus  supremely — Ijetter  even  than  her 
parents — and  entertaining  her  with  descriptions  of  that 
dear  Saviour's  adorable  perfections.  She  encom*aged 
her  to  observe  silence,  to  work  w^ith  her  hands  at  stated 
times,  and  taught  her  to  read  in  the  lives  of  the  saints 
of  holy  virgins  and  maityre.  Agnese's  character  and 
turn  of  mind  answered  precisely  to  her  mother's  wishes; 
and  tlie  perfection  of  her  conduct  was  such^  that  sho 


40 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROMB. 


was  generally  designated  by  all  who  knew  her  as  the 
little  saint  or  the  little  ung^el. 

The  years  of  Evanfjelistu's  and  Agnese's  infancy  had 
been  most  disastrous  ones  to  the  uniiappy  iniml)itants  of 
Home.  The  factions  which  had  oi-isen  in  consenuence 
of  the  schism,  and  of  the  intrijjues  of  Ladislas  of  Naples, 
had  banished  all  security,  anil  conveited  the  town  into 
a  field  of  battle,  where  bloody  conflicts  were  daily  tak- 
ing* place.  The  principles  of  union  seemed  banished 
from  the  world.  The  nations  and  sovereigns  of  Euro[»e, 
given  up  to  the  most  selfish  policy,  ceased  to  acknow- 
ledg^e  tne  chief  pastor  of  the  Church ;  and  the  Etemnl 
City,  beyond  any  other  place,  had  become  an  arena  for 
ferocious  strug-gles  and  sanguinary  conspiracies.  The 
year  1400  brought  with  it  a  momentary  semblance  of 
j)eace,  and  Francesca  and  Vannozza  availed  themselves 
of  that  breathing-time  to  revisit  some  of  the  distant 
churches,  and  attend  the  Italians  as  before.  They  used 
to  walk  to  them  on  foot  at  the  earliest  break  of  day, 
accompanied  by  Rita  Celli,  the  yovmg  person  alreany 
mentioned,  anu  Lucia  degli  Aspalli,  a  devout  married 
woman  nearly  related  to  the  Ponziano  family.  They 
repeated  psalms  and  litanies  on  their  way,  or  spent  the 
time  in  pious  meditation,  and  remained  some  hours  in 
pi-aj-^er  before  the  altara  which  they  visited  in  turn, — 
taking  care  to  be  at  home  again  by  the  time  that  their 
presence  was  reauired.  In  that  troubled  epoch  the 
voice  of  the  preacher  was  seldom  heard ;  sermons,  how- 
ever, were  occasionally  delivered  by  the  Franciscans 
and  the  Dominicans  in  the  churches  of  Ara  Cceli  and 
Santa  Maria  sopra  Minerva;  and  at  these  our  saints 
never  failed  to  assist.*  Their  spiritual  guide  had  given 
them  leave  to  go  to  communion  several  times  a  week. 
This  was  a  privilege  seldom  granted  and  seldom  sought 
for  in  those  distracted  times.  The  blessed  practice  of 
daily  communion,  which  universally  prevailed  amongst 
the  early  Christians, — that  practice  which  turns  earth 
ifitQ  heaven,  and  converts  t}ie  land  of  exile  into  a  paiu- 


^ 


II 


Cll.  v.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  41 

dise  of  pence  and  joy, — was  nil  l)ut  entirely  neg-lected, 
or  only  kept  up  in  some  few  cloistei  s.  The  two  sistei-s 
linhitually  communicated  in  the  chun-h  of  Santa  Cecilia, 
the  nearest  to  their  house.  One  of  the  priests  of  that 
parish  was  scandalised  at  the  frequency  of  their  com- 
munions, and  persuaded  himself  that  it  was  incredihle 
that  young"  women  of  their  ng;e,  and  in  such  a  j/osition 
of  life,  could  |)ossibly  be  in  jiossession  of  the  requisite 
dispositions.  This  .unhappy  man  ventui-ed  one  day  to 
give  Fmncesca  an  unconseci-ated  wafer ;  God  instantly 
revealed  to  tue  saint  the  sin  of  the  priest,  and  she  in- 
foraied  her  director  of  the  fact.  Don  Antonio  disclosed 
to  the  astonished  offender  the  secret  which  had  been 
confined  to  his  own  breast.  He  confessed  his  fault  with 
the  deepest  contrition,  implored  God's  pardon,  asked 
forgiveness  of  the  saint,  and  received  the  numiliation  as 
a  warning  agiiinst  rush  judg-ments. 

The  warfare  which  Satan  was  permitted  to  carry 
on  against  Francesca  became  more  and  more  violent  at 
this  period  of  her  life.  In  actual  outi-ag-es,  in  terrific 
visions,  in  mystical  but  real  sufferings,  which  afflicted 
every  sense  and  toitmed  every  nerve,  the  animosity  of 
the  evil  spirit  evinced  itself;  and  Almig-hty  God  jwr- 
mitted  it,  for  she  was  of  those  chosen  throug-h  much 
tribulation  to  ascend  the  steep  path  which  is  paved 
with  thorns  and  com[)assed  with  darkness,  but  on 
which  the  ray  of  an  iineai-thly  sunshine  bi-eaks  at  times. 
She  was  to  pai'take  of  the  miraculous  g^fts  of  the  saints; 
to  win  men's  souls  through  prayer,  to  read  the  secrets 
of  their  heaits,  to  see  ang-els  walking  by  her  side,  to 
heal  diseases  by  the  touch  of  her  hands,  and  hold  the 
devils  at  bay,  when  they  thought  to  injure  the  bodies 
of  othera  or  wage  war  with  her  own  spirit.  But  such 
heights  of  glory  are  not  gained  without  proportionate 
sufreiing ;  the  cup  of  which  Jesus  drank  to  the  dregs 
in  His  a^-ony  she  was  to  drink  of,  the  baptism  of  honor 
with  wluch  He  was  baptised  was  ta  be  her's  also  in  a 
measure;  and  that  mysterious  weakness,  that  divine 
lielplessness  of  His,  which  allowed  Satan  to  cany  Him, 


«► 


«3 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


the  Loixi  of  all,  to  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple  or  the 
hi-ow  of  the  mountain,  was  not  imsharecl  by  His  servant. 
Strang-e  and  hewilderinff  wel*e  tlie  assaults  she  endured, 
but  still  more  wondeHul  the  defeats  of  the  evil  one. 
Of  her  tnumph,  as  of  those  of  her  Lord,  it  may  be  said, 
"  that  when  the  devil  left  her,  then  ang-els  came  ar.d 
ministered  unto  her."  Sti-ange,  thai  those  who  believe 
the  history  of  Jesus  should  turn  incredulously  away 
from  that  c^  His  saints ;  for  did  He  not  expressly  say, 
that  what  He  suffered,  they  should' suffer ;  that  where 
He  had  overcome,  they  would  triumph ;  and  that  the 
works  that  He  peifoiTaed,  aye  and  gi-eater  works  still, 
they  should  accomplish  ? 

On  one  occasion,  when  on  the  point  of  setting-  out 
for  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's,  Vannozza  was  violently 
precipitated  down  the  staii*s  of  the  palace  bj  the  power 
of  the  evil  spirit,  and  fell  at  her  sister's  feet,  who  at 
that  instant  heard  a  voice  whispeiing  in  her  ear,  "  I 
would  kill  thy  sister,  and  drive  thee  to  despair;"  but 
at  the  same  moment  an  inward  revelation  bade  Fran- 
cesca  raise  up  the  prostrate  form  of  her  friend,  and 
apply  to  her  bruised  limbs  an  ointment  which  instantly 
relieved  the  pains  of  her  fall.  Another  time  our  saint 
was  lifted  up  by  the  hair  of  her  head,  and  susj)ended 
over  a  precipice  for  the  space  of  some  minutes  j  with 
perfect  calmness  she  called  upon  Jesus,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment found  hei'self  in  safety  within  her  i-oom.  Her 
fii-st  act  was  to  cut  off  her  beautiful  hair,  and  offer  it 
up  as  a  thank-offering"  to  Him  who  had  saved  hor  from 
the  hands  of  the  inferaal  enemy.  These  are  only  speci- 
mens of  the  trials  of  this  natura  to  which  Francesca 
was  more  or  less  subjected  all  lier  life,  but  to  which  it 
will  not  be  necessai'y  again  to  make  moi-e  than  casual 
allusion. 

In  the  year  1409,  when  she  was  about  twenty-seven 

{real's  old,  ner  temporal  calamities  began.  Ai'ter  Ladis- 
as  of  Naples,  befriended  by  the  enemies  of  the  Po[)e, 
oad  in  1408  gained  possession  of  Rome  ))y  fi-audulent 
ueans,  >te  left  behind  him  as  governor  of  the  city  the 


CH.  T.]  9T.  PRANCES  OF  ROME. 

Count  Pietro  Traja,  a  rough  and  brutal  soldier,  well 
fitted  to  sei-ve  the  fierce  passions  of  his  master.  He 
was  continually  looking*  out  for  occasions  to  pereecuto 
those  Roman  nobles  who  remained  faithful  to  the  cause 
of  the  Church.  He  was  abetted  in  this  by  the  fac- 
tion of  the  Colonnas,  and  some  other  poweiiul  families, 
who  supported  the  pretensions  of  the  anti-Popes  Gre- 
gory XII.  and  Benedict  XIII.  agninst  the  legitimate 
gmtiff  Alexander  V.,  recently  elected  by  the  Council  of 
isa.  The  troops  of  Lewis  of  Anjou,  the  rival  of  Ladis- 
lafl  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  had  in  tliP  mean  time 
entered  that  portion  of  Rome  which  went  by  the  name 
of  the  Leonine  City,  and  gained  possession  of  the  Vati- 
can and  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo.  Several  skii-mishes 
took  place  between  the  fences  of  the  usurper  and  the 
troops  of  the  Pope  and  of  Lewis  of  Anjou.  Lorenzo  Pon- 
ziano,  who  from  his  birth  and  his  talents  was  the  most 
eminent  man  of  his  party,  and  an  ardent  supporter  of 
the  legitimate  cause,  commanded  the  pontifical  ai-my 
on  one  of  these  occasions,  and  was  pei'sonally  engaged 
in  a  conflict  with  the  Count  of  Traia's  soldiei-s.  In  the 
midst  of  the  fi*ay  he  was  recognised  by  the  opposite 
v>arty,  and  became  the  special  mark  of  their  attacks. 
Fighting  with  heroic  courage,  he  had  nearly  succeeded 
in  dispersing  his  assailants,  when,  as  Evangelista  had 
foretold  the  year  before,  a  dagger  w^as  treacherously 
thrust  into  his  side,  and  inflicted  so  deep  a  wound  tliat 
he  fell  to  the  ground,  rnd  was  taken  up  for  dead.  The 
ten-ible  news  was  earned  to  the  Ponziano  palace,  and 
announced  to  Francesca.  The  anguish  that  her  coun- 
tenance revealed  filled  the  bystandei-s  with  compassion ; 
but  it  was  only  for  an  instant  that  she  stood  as  if  trans- 
fixed and  oveiwhelmed  with  grief. 

Repressing  by  a  strong  effort  her  bureting  sobs  ana 
the  cnes  that  wero  brepking  from  her  heart,  she  soon 
raised  her  eyes  to  heaven  witli  a  steadfast  gaze,  forgave 
the  assassin,  oflered  up  Lorenzo's  life  and  her  own,  ana 
murmured  the  woi-ds  of  Jjb,  "  The  Lord  had  given 
him,  the  Lord  has  taken  liim  away;  blessed  be  th« 


M 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


name  of  the  Loixl."  Then,  calm,  composed,  bracea  fot 
endurance,  she  courag-eously  advanced  to  meet  the  slow 
approach  of  those  who  wei-e  bring^ing-  back  to  his  home 
the  body  of  her  mui-dei-ed  husband.  As  they  laid  him 
in  the  hall  of  the  palace,  she  knelt  by  his  side,  and  put- 
ting- her  face  close  to  his,  she  discerned  in  the  apparently 
lifeless  form  the  faint  symptoms  of  lingering*  vitidity.  The 
sudden  revulsion  of  hope  did  not  overcome  her  presence 
of  mind.  She  instantly  dcsu*ed  those  about  her  to  send 
for  a  priest  and  for  a  doctor ;  and  then,  bending  over 
Lorenzo,  she  suggested  to  him,  in  words  which  found 
their  way  to  the  imderetanding  of  the  dying"  man, 
whateyer  the  most  affectionate  tenderness  and  the  most 
jardent  piety  could  devise  at  such  a  moment, — to  pre- 
pare the  soul  for  its  last  flight,  pardon  for  his  foec,  and 
especially  for  his  assassin,  a  firm  trust  in  God,  and  the 
union  of  his  sufferings  with  those  of  his  Lord. 

The  palace  presented  a  scene  of  wild  confusion. 
Armed  men  were  moving  to  and  fro ;  the  clash  of  urais 
was  mingled  with  the  gi*oans  of  the  servants :  the  weep- 
ing and  wailings  of  the  women  and  of  the  children, 
vows  of  vengeance,  curses  deep  and  loud,  frantic  re- 
grets, were  heaid  on  every  side.  Francesca  alone  was 
as  an  angel  of  peace,  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar  of  pas- 
sion and  the  outpoming  of  giief.  Her's  was  tho  keen- 
est son'ow  of  all ;  but  it  was  kept  under  by  the  sti-ength 
of  a  long-practised  faith,  and  thus  it  intei-fered  with  no 
duty  and  staggered  at  no  trial.  Day  and  night  she 
watched  by  Loi'enzo's  couch.  H^  expei-ience  in  nui>s- 
ing  the  sick,  and  in  dressing  wounds,  enabled  her  to 
render  him  the  most  minute  and  efficacious  assistance. 
Her  watchful  love,  her  tender  assiduity,  received  its 
reward ;  God  gave  her  that  life,  far  dearer  to  her  than 
her  own.  Contraiy  to  all  expectation,  Lorenzo  slowly 
recovered ;  but  for  a  long  time  remained  in  a  precarious 
con<lition. 

Meanwhile  the  Count  of  Traja,  pressed  on  every 
side,  began  to  foresee  the  necessity  of  leaving  Romej 
butj  in  iiis  exasperation,  resolved  previously  ti0  wreuV 


n 


en.  V.J 


8T.  PRANCES  OP  HOME. 


45 


The 


his  vengeance  on  the  families  most  devoted  to  the  Pope, 
and  especially  on  that  of  the  Ponziani,  which  was 
especially  obnoxious  to  him.  He  accordingly  arrested 
Paluzzo,  Yannozza's  husband,  and  kejit  him  in  close 
confinement;  and  understanding  that  Lorenzo  had  a 
son  of  eight  or  nine  yeare  old,  he  commanded  that  he 
should  be  given  up  into  his  hands  as  a  hostage,  and 
swore  that  m  case  of  a  refusal  he  would  put  Paluzzo  to 
death.  Now,  indeed,  is  Francesca  tried  almost  beyond 
the  jpower  of  endurance :  now  is  her  cup  of  ang-uish 
iillea  to  the  brim.  She  can  ask  counsel  of  none :  Lo- 
renzo she  dares  not  consult;  it  might  kill  him  to  hear 
the  fearful  truth.  Others  would  say,  **  Give  up  the 
child  j"  and  she  looks  at  his  fair  face,  at  his  innocent 
eyes,  at  the  purity  of  his  spotless  brow;  and  she  cannot, 
she  will  not,  she  must  not  give  him  up.  Oh,  that  she 
had  the  wings  of  a  dove  to  flv  away  and  cany  him 
hence !  She  takes  him  by  the  Land,  and,  like  a  second 
Hagar,  goes  forth,  whither  she  knows  not.  It  is  an 
instinct,  an  impulse,  an  inspiration.  It  is  the  mother's 
heait  within  her  that  bids  her  fly  from  the  horrible 
dilemma,  and  save  her  child  from  the  tyrant  who  seeks 
more  than  his  life, — who  would  ruin  his  soul.  Throu«jh 
out-of-the-way  streets,  into  the  deseited  comers  of  tlie 
city  she  goes,  clasping  the  boy's  hand  with  an  agonis- 
ing grasp,  with  but  one  thought — to  hide  him  from 
every  eye.  Suddenly  she  stops  short;  before  her 
stands  Don  Antonio,  her  long-tioisted  director,  who  has 
led  her  through  the  gi-een  pastures  in  which  her  spirit  has 
found  i-est.  He  questions  her,  and  hears  the  incoherent 
account  of  her  fears,  her  anguish,  and  her  flight.  By 
a  supernatural  light  he  sees  the  drift  of  this  trial,  and 
puts  her  faith  to  the  test.  "  Francesca,"  he  said,  "  you 
fly  to  save  the  child ;  God  bids  me  tell  you  that  it  is 
to  the  Capitol  you  must  carry  him — there  lies  his 
safety ;  and  do  you  go  *o  the  Church  of  Ara  Coeli."  A 
tierce  stniggle  rose  in  Francesca's  heart — the  gi-eatest 
stoi-m  that  had  ever  convulsed  it.  "  To  the  Capitol ! " 
the  is  about  to  cry.     "  It  is  at  ^lie  Capitol  that  the 


40 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


tyrant  awaits  liim ! "  But  ere  the  wordt)  are  uttered, 
they  die  away  on  her  lips.  Grace  has  ^ined  the 
mastery ;  the  faith  of  the  saint  has  asserted  its  power. 
The  wild  expression  passes  away  from  her  eyes;  she 
bows  hei  head  in  silence,  and  with  a  firm  step  retraces 
her  steps,  in  obedience  to  him  who  has  spoken  in  God's 
name.  In  the  mean  time  the  I'eport  of  the  event  had 
spi-ead  throng-h  Rome,  and  in  the  more  crowded  streets 
which  she  had  to  pass  through  a  cry  of  pity  and  of 
terror  arose.  Crowds  press  about  her,  and  bid  her  turn 
back;  they  tell  her  she  is  mad  to  surrender  the  child, 
they  try  to  take  him  from  her,  and  to  carry  him  back  by 
force  to  his  father's  palace ;  but  in  vain.  She  waves  them 
off,  and  pursues  her  way  till  she  has  reached  the  Capitol. 
She  walked  straight  up  to  the  place  where  the  Nea- 
politan tyrant  was  standing,  and  surrendered  up  the 
i)oy  to  him ;  and  then,  without  once  looking  back,  she 
hurried  into  ^he  Church  of  Ara  CobH,  fell  prostrate  at 
the  feet  of  the  Mother  of  Mercy,  and  before  that  sacred 
image,  dear  to  this  day  to  every  Catholic  parent,  she 
made  the  sacrifice  of  her  child,  of  her  life,  of  her  soul, 
of  all  that  in  that  hour  she  had  felt  to  give  up.  Then, 
for  the  first  time,  a  ioiTent  of  tears  relieved  ner  tight- 
bound  heart;  and  gazing  on  the  picture,  she  saw  the 
dove-like  eyes  of  tne  Blessed  Virgin  assume  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  encouraging  expression,  and  in  her 
ears  were  whispered  words  welcome  as  the  dew  to  the 
thirsty  ground;  sweet  as  the  notes  of  the  bird  when  the 
storm  has  subsided :  "  Be  not  afi-aid ;  I  am  here  to 
befiiend  you." 

She  was  at  peace ;  she  felt  sure  that  her  son  was 
safe ;  and  on  her  knees,  in  speechless  prayer,  she  waited 
the  event.  Nor  did  she  wait  long.  When  she  had 
left  the  Count  of  Traja's  presence,  ho  had  ordered  one 
of  his  officer  to  take  the  little  Baptista  on  his  horse, 
and  carry  him  away  to  a  place  he  appointed ;  but,  from 
the  instant  that  the  chila  was  placeu  on  the  saddle,  no 
efforts  could  induce  the  animal  to  stir  from  the  spot. 
la  vain  his  ridor  urged  him  with  spurs  and  whip: 


CII.  VI.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  47  . 

neither  the  severest  blows,  nor  the  accustomed  voice  of 
)iis  master,  succeeded  in  movinc"  him  an  inch  from  the 
])lace,  where  he  stood  as  motionless  as  a  statue.  Four 
of  the  knig^hts  of  Naples  renewed  the  attempt.  Four 
successive  steeds  wei-e  tried  for  the  purpose,  and  al- 
ways with  the  same  result.  There  is  a  strength  ereater 
than  man'i  will ;  there  is  a  power  that  defeats  human 
malice.  Stnick  with  a  secret  ternw*  and  dismay  by  the 
evident  prodigy,  the  Count  of  Traja  gave  up  the  un- 
equal contest,  and  oi-dered  the  child  to  be  restored  to 
Ills  mother.  Before  the  altar  of  the  Ara  Cceli,  at  the 
foot  of  that  image,  where  in  her  ang^uish  she  had  fallen 
and  found  hope  when  hope  seemed  at  end,  Francesca 
received  back  into  her  arms  the  son  of  lier  love,  and 
blessed  the  God  who  had  given  her  strength  to  go 
through  this  the  severest  of  her  trials. 


• 


CHAPTER  VI. 


SUFFERINGS  OF  ROME  FROM  THE  TROOPS  OP  LADISLAS  —  DEATH  or 
FRANCESCa's  SON  ETANGELISTA — THE  FAMINE  AND  PLAGUE  IN 
ROME — FRANCESCA^  LABOURS  FOR  THE  STARVING  AND  SICK — 
HER  MIRACLES. 

Pope  Alexander  V.  died  at  Bologna  in  1410.  Six- 
teen cardinals  assembled  in  that  city,  and  chose  for 
his  successor  Balthazar  Cossa,  who  took  the  name  of 
John  XXIII.  While  they  were  proceeding  with  the 
election,  Ladislas  seized  the  opportunity  of  the  inter- 
regnum once  more  to  advance  upon  Rome ;  and  fi-om 
Veletri  he  threatened  it  with  a  second  invasion.  The 
new  Pope  renewing  the  alliance  with  Lewis  of  Anjou, 
they  combined  their  forces  against  I^adislas,  and  en- 
deavoured to  drive  him  back  from  the  position  he  had 
taken.  Their  arms  proved  successful  in  a  fii-st  battle ; 
but  Lewis  having  ivithdi-awn  his  troops  immediately  . 


>'■ 


I 


48 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


after  the  victory,  Ladislas  deceived  the  Holy  Father  by 
a  pretended  peace,  ffained  possession  ofRome,  and  g^ave 
it  up  to  pillagre.  The  horrors  of  this  invasion,  and  of 
the  sack  that  followed  it,  surpassed  in  ati-ocity  almost 
nil  those  which  had  previously  afflicted  the  capital  of 
the  Christian  world.  A  number  of  palaces  and  houses 
were  destroyed,  the  basilicas  were  despoiled  of  their 
treasures  anH  desecrated  by  the  most  abominable  oi-gies, 
the  churches  turned  into  stables,  and  many  of  the  faith- 
ful adherents  of  the  Church  subjected  to  the  toi-tm-e  or 
barbarously  put  to  death. 

The  Ponziani  were  amongst  the  principal  of  the 
Pope's  supporters;  and  Lorenzo,  scarcely  recovered  from 
his  lonff  illness,  was  pereuaded  by  his  friends  to  with- 
draw himself  by  flight  from  the  fury  of  the  conqueror, 
and  conceal  himself  in  a  distant  province.  It  haa  been 
impossible  to  remove  his  wife  and  children ;  and  Fran- 
cesca  remained  exposed  to  a  succession  of  the  most 
trying-  disasters.  The  wealth  of  the  family  cliiefly  con- 
sisted in  their  country  possessions,  and  the  immense 
number  of  cattle  which  were  bred  on  those  broad  lands; 
and  day  after  day  intelligence  was  broug-ht  to  her  that 
one  farm-house  or  another  was  burnt  or  pillas-ed,  the 
flocks  dispersed  or  destroyed,  and  the  shepherds  mur- 
dered by  a  ruthless  soldiery.  Temfied  peasants  made 
their  escape  into  the  city,  and  scared  the  inhabitants  of 
the  palace  with  dreadful  accounts  of  the  death  of  their 
companions,  and  of  the  destmction  of  property  which 
was  continually  going-  on.  A  cry  of  despair  i-ang  from 
Mount  Soracte  to  the  Alban  Hill,  extended  to  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean,  and  resounded  in  the  palaces  of 
Rome,  carrying"  dismay  to  the  hearts  of  its  ruined  and 
broken-spirited  nobles. 

Francesca  received  the  tidings  with  an  aching  heart 
indeed ;  for  her  compassion  for  the  sufferings  of  others 
did  not  pennit  her  to  remain  unmoved  amidst  such  dii-e 
misfortunes.  Still  she  never  lost  her  habitual  composure ; 
lier  only  occupation  was  to  console  the  mourners :  her 
first  im(>tilse  on  thes6  oiccftsiohs  to  bless  God,  and  accept 


/.' 


ca.  VI.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


49 


at  His  hands  all  that  His  providence  ordained.  It  was 
well  that  she  was  resigned,  and  had  learned  the  lesson 
of  courage  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross ;  for,  like  a  iiood  at 
spring-tide,  her  afflictions  wei-e  increasing  every  day, 
threatening  to  overwhelm  all  landmarks  hut  those  of  an 
indomitahle  faith.  One  fatal  morning,  a  troop  of  savage 
ruffians,  dinink  with  mge,  and  vociferating  hiasphemies, 
broke  into  the  palace,  clamouring  after  Lorenzo,  and 
threatening  to  torture  the  sen'ants  if  they  did  not  in- 
stantly reveal  his  place  of  concealment;  and  ended  ])y 
canying  away  Baptista,  who  clung  in  vain  to  Lis 
mother's  neck,  and  was  only  parted  fi-om  her  by  force. 
When  they  had  succeeded  in  tearing  him  away  fi-om  her 
arms,  they  proceeded  to  pillage,  and  all  but  to  destrov, 
the  time-honoured  residence  of  the  Ponziani.  In  tfie 
space  of  a  few  houi-s  that  goi^eous  abode  was  turaed 
into  a  heap  of  i>uins.  Bereft  of  her  husband,  of  her 
son,  and  of  all  the  conveniences  of  life,  Francesca,  with 
her  two  younger  children,  remained  alone  and  unpro- 
tected; ioT  her  brother-in-law,  Paluzzo,  who  might 
have  been  a  support  to  her  in  that  dreadful  moment, 
was  still  a  prisoner  in  the  tyrant'**  hands,  and  her  inno- 
cent boy  shai'ed  the  same  fate.  1\>  is  not  exactly  known 
how  long  his  captivity  liLted;  but  it  may  be  supposed 
that  rreans  were  found  of  effecting  his  release,  and 
sending  him  to  Lorenzo;  for  iti^  mentioned  that,  at  the 
period  when  the  troubles  were  at  an  end,  and  peace  re- 
stored to  the  city  of  Rome,  the  father  and  the  son  re- 
turned together. 

In  the  mean  time,  Francesca  took  shelter  in  a  comer 
of  her  ruined  habitation ;  and  there,  with  Evangelista 
and  Agnese,  she  managed  to  live  in  the  most  complete 
seclusion.  Thesf  i  two  children  were  now  their  motner's 
only  comfort,  as  their  education  was  her  principal  occu- 

Eation.  Evang  jlista,  iis  he  advanced  in  age,  in  no  way 
elied  the  promise  of  his  infancy.  He  lived  in  spirit 
with  the  angels  and  saints,  and  seemed  more  fittea  for 
their  society  than  for  any  earthly  companionship.  **  To 
be  with  God"  was  his  only  dream  of  bliss.    Though 

■ 


50 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


5  * 

11 


scarcely  nine  years  old,  he  already  helped  his  inothor 
in  all  the  pains  swe  took  with  Agnese's  education 

The  hour  for  another  sacrifice  was,  however,  at  hand. 
It  was  not  long  delayed.  The  second  invasion  of  Rome 
had  heen  succeeded  hy  a  dreadful  famine,  which  was 
followed  in  its  turn  by  a  severe  pestilence.  Already 
one  or  two  cases  of  the  prevailing*  epidemic  had  ap- 
peared in  the  Ponziano  Palace,  and  then  Evang-elista 
sickened  with  it  j  and  one  moi-ning"  Francesca  was  told 
that  the  son  of  her  love  was  dying".  No  sooner  had  he 
felt  the  first  symptoms  of  the  plngiie,  than  he  asked  for 
a  confessor.  He  never  doubted  that  his  last  hour  was 
come ;  and  she  believed  it  too.  Don  Antonio  huri'ied 
to  the  bed-side  of  the  boy,  who,  after  he  had  made  his 
confession,  sent  for  his  mother,  and  taking*  her  hand  in 
his,  addressed  her  in  some  such  words  as  follow  : 

"Mother  mine,  I  have  often  told  you  that  God 
would  not  leave  me  with  yoa  long" ;  that  He  will  have 
me  dwell  with  His  angels.  Jesus  is  my  treasure,  my 
hope,  and  my  joy.  I  have  ever  lived  with  Him  in 
thought,  in  desire,  in  unutterable  longings.  Every  day 
I  have  said  '  Thy  kingdom  come ;'  and  now  He  calls  me 
to  it.  There  is  a  crown  prepared  for  me,  my  beloved 
mother.  The  Lord  is  about  to  give  it  me,  and  we  must 
part  for  awhile.  But  bless  His  name,  oh  my  mother. 
Praise  Him  with  me ;  for  He  delivei-s  me  from  all 
that  your  love  dreaded  for  me  upon  earth.  There  is 
no  sin,  no  sorrow,  no  sickness  where  I  am  going.  No- 
thing but  peace  and  Joy  and  the  sight  of  God  in  that 
better  land  where  the  blessed  are  expecting  me.  I  must 
not  see  you  weep.  I  will  not  have  you  grieve.  Rejoice 
with  your  child ;  for  I  see  them  even  now,  my  loly 
advocates,  St.  Anthony  and  St.  Vauplerins.  They  are 
coming  to  fetch  me  away.  Dearest  mother,  I  will  pray 
for  you.  Evangelista  will  love  you  in  heaven  as  he  has 
loved  you  on  earth,  and  you  will  come  to  him  there." 

The  dying  boy  then  remained  silent  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  a  sudden  light  illumined  his  face ;  his 
features  seemed  transformed.    Raising  his  eyes  with  a 


jn.  vi.\ 


ST.  FPANCCS  OF  ROME* 


61 


look  of  rnpture,  he  exclaimed,  "  Here  ore  the  angels 
come  to  take  me  away.  Give  me  your  blessing",  my 
mother.  Do  not  be  afraid,  I  shall  never  forg-et  vou. 
God  bless  you  and  my  dear  father,  and  all  who  belong- 
to  this  house.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 
Then  crossing  his  little  arms  on  his  cbest,  he  bowed 
down  his  head,  a  last  smile  passed  over  his  faoo — "  she 
had  her  meed,  that  smile  in  death,"  and  his  young-  spirit 
passed  to  tlie  regions  of  endhss  bliss. 

A  touching"  prodig"y,  well  adap*^(>d  to  cheer  the  heart 
of  our  saint,  took  place  that  very  day  in  a  house  ad- 
joining her  own.  i.  little  girl,  wlio  had  been  dang-er- 
ously  ill  for  a  long"  time,  and  had  completely  lost  the 
power  of  speech,  at  the  very  moment  that  Francesca's 
son  had  expired  suddenly  raised  herself  in  her  bed,  and 
exclaimed  several  times  in  a  loud  voice,  and  in  a  state 
of  evident  rapture,  "  See,  see !  how  beautiful !  Evan- 
gelista  Ponziano  is  g'oing"  up  into  heaven,  and  two 
ang"els  with  him !"  The  mortal  remains  of  the  young" 
boy  were  deposited  in  the  family  vault  in  the  church  of 
Santa  Cecilia,  in  Trastevere.  A  monument  was  erected 
there  with  the  simple  inscription,  "  Here  lies  Evang'e- 
Ksta  Ponziano ;"  and  a  figure  in  stone,  clothed  in  a  long 
robe,  was  carved  upon  it. 

Francesca  wept  over  the  loss  of  her  dearly-beloved 
child,  but  did  not  grieve  for  him.  How  could  she  have 
done  so?  He  was  in  bliss;  and  had  only  preceded  her 
to  that  heaven  for  which  she  was  day  by  day  preparing. 
Nor  was  it  a  time  for  the  idle  indulgence  of  sorrow. 
Want  and  sickness  were  tiuning  Rome  into  a  chanie!- 
house.  Wild  voices  were  screaming  ff*  bread  on  every 
side.  The  streets  were  encumbered  by  the  victims  of 
contagious  disease ;  their  fi-antic  cries  and  piteous  mean- 
ings re-echoed  in  each  piazza  and  undfir  every  portico. 
Old  men  were  dying  suiTounded  by  the  corpses  of  their 
children;  mothe's  pressed  to  their  milkiess  bosoms- 
their  starv.ng  infants.  Othere  crept  about  bereft  of 
all  their  family,  and  haunting  like  pale  ghosts  the 
scenes  of  their  past  happiness.    No  carnages  shook  the 


i': 


(      li' 


ST.  PRANCES  OP  ROME. 

ptiblic  ways.  The  g^ross  grew  in  the  deserted  streets ; 
one  mournful  equipuufe  alone  slowly  pursued  its  coui-se 
throug-h  the  doomed  city,  g'atherinw'  as  it  passed  the 
dead  at  every  door ;  and  when  the  (Ireadful  cargo  was 
completed,  bearing*  it  away  *  ^j  crowded  cemetery. 
The  ruin  of  private  propert  .  ie  general  penury  occa- 
sioned by  the  cruelties  of  Ladislas,  and  the  sacking*  of 
Kome  by  his  soldiers,  had  cut  oif  almost  all  the  re- 
sources of  private  charity.  Anxiety  for  self,  and  the 
fear  of  contagion,  had  worked  so  deeply  on  the  mind  of 
the  multitude,  that  many  persons  abandoned  even  their 
near  relatives  and  friends  when  they  were  attacked  by 
the  plague.  Nothing  but  the  charity  which  is  of  divine 
not  of  natural  origin  could  meet  sucn  an  emergency,  or 
cope  in  any  degree  with  the  awfiil  misery  of  those  da  vs. 
Francesca,  bereaved  of  every  thirg  but  her  one  little 
girl,  and  lodged  with  Vannozza  and  Rita  in  a  comer  of 
their  dismantled  house,  had  no  longer  at  her  command 
the  resources  she  had  formerly  possessed  for  the  relief 
of  the  poor.  A  little  food  from  tlieir  ruined  estates  was 
now  and  then  supplied  to  these  lonely  women;  and  they 
scarcely  partook  of  it  themselves,  in  oi*der  to  bestow  the 
greatest  part  on  the  sick  and  poor.  There  was  a  large 
liall  in  the  lower  part  of  the  palace  which  had  been  less 
injured  than  any  other  portion  c;  the  building.  It  was 
at  least  a  place  of  shelter  against  the  inclemencies  of 
the  weather.  The  sisters  conve^-ted  it  into  a  temporary 
hospital ;  but  of  the  shattered  fiirniture  that  lay  scat- 
tered about  the  house,  they  contrived  to  make  up  beds 
and  covering,  and  to  pi-epare  some  clothing  for  the 
wretched  creatures  they  were  about  to  receive.  When 
all  was  ready,  they  went  in  search  of  the  sufferers.  If 
they  found  any  too  weak  to  walk,  they  carried  them  into 
the  new  asylum ;  there  they  washed  and  dressed  their 
putrefying  sores,  and  by  means  which  saints  have  often 
employed,  and  which  we  could  hardly  bear  even  to  think 
of,  they  conquered  in  themselves  all  repugnance  to  sights 
and  employments  against  which  the  senses  and  the  flesh 
rise  in  rebellion.     They  pi-epored  both  medicine  and 


h 


Clf.  VI.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


US 


food ;  watched  the  sick  bv  day  and  by  night ;  laboured 
incessantly  for  their  bodies,  and  still  more  for  their 
Boiils.  Many  were  those  who  recovered  health  throug^h 
Fmncesca's  care,  and  ?nany  more  who  were  healed  of 
the  worst  disease  of  the  soul, — a  hardened  impenitence 
under  the  just  judgment  of  God.  She  had  trie  art  of 
awakening  their  fears,  without  driving  them  to  despair ; 
to  make  tnem  look  upon  their  sufferings  as  a  means  of 
expiation  (that  great  secret  of  Catholic  consolation), 
and  bring  them  by  degrees  to  repentance,  to  confession, 
to  the  practice  of  long-forgotten  duties,  and  of  those 
Christian  virtues  which  her  own  example  recommended 
to  their  hearts. 

The  example  which  the  ruined  and  bereaved  wives 
of  thePonziani  had  given  kindled  a  similar  spirit  among 
the  hitherto  apathetic  inhabitants  of  Rome.  The  magis- 
trates of  the  city,  struck  at  the  sight  of  such  unparalleled 
exertions  where  the  means  were  so  slender,  were  roused 
from  their  inaction,  and  in  several  parts  of  the  city, 
especially  in  the  pai'ishes  of  St.  Cecilia  and  of  Santa 
Maria  in  Ti'astevere,  hospitals  and  asylums  were  opened 
for  the  perishing  multituaes.  Often  and  'jften  Fi-ancesra 
and  Vannozza  saw  the  morning  dawn,  .  nd  not  a  bit  of 
food  of  any  description  did  they  possess  for  themselves 
or  for  their  inmates.  They  then  went  out  to  beg,  as 
they  had  done  before ;  but  not  merely  as  an  act  of 
humility,  nor  dressed  as  heretofore  as  became  their  i-ank, 
or  in  those  places  only  where  their  names  secured  re- 
spect, and  generally  a  favourable  answer;  but  in  the 
garb  of  poverty,  in  the  spots  where  beggars  were  wont 
to  congregate  and  the  nch  to  bestow  alms,  they  took 
their  stand,  and  gratefully  received  the  broken  bits  that 
fell  from  the  tables  of  the  wealthy.  Each  remnant  of 
food,  each  ra^  of  clothing,  they  brought  home  with  joy ; 
and  the  mouldiest  piece  of  bread  out  of  their  bag  was 
set  aside  for  their  own  nourishment,  while  the  best  was 
bestowed  on  their  guests. 

In  our  own  time,  in  our  own  rich  and  luxurious 
lity,  there  is  a  couiiteri)art  to  these  deeds  of  heroio 


54 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


cliarity.  There  are  yoiinff  and  well-educated  women, 
wlio  in  their  homes  never  Tacked  tlie  necessaries  or  tiie 
cointbrts,  nay  ]Ka-haps  tlio  luxuries  of  lite,  who  do  the 
same;  who  receive  into  their  abode  the  aged,  tlie 
maimed,  tiie  crippled,  and  the  deformed ;  lodg'ing'  them 
in  tiieir  best  rooms,  and  th')mselves  in  cellars  or  {^aiTets ; 
tending'  them  as  their  servants,  and  feeding  them  as 
tlieir  raotliei's ;  begging  for  them  from  door  to  door  the 
crumbs  from  the  tables  of  the  rich,  and  carrying  along 
their  basket,  i-ejoicing  when  it  is  heavy,  even  though 
their  arms  ache  and  their  cheeks  gi'ow  pale  with  the 
labour;  like  Francesca,  feeding  upon  the  remnants  of 
tlie  poor  feast  where  the  poor  have  sat  before  them. 

t  rancesca  was  insulted  in  her  career  of  mercy  through 
the  streets  of  Rome,  when  civil  war  and  anarchy  were 
raging  there  in  the  wildest  epoch  of  lawless  stnfe  and 
fiercest  passion ;  and  the  gentle  sisters  of  the  poor,  the 
servants  of  the  helpless,  who  have  abandoned  home  and 
friends  and  comforts,  and,  above  all,  respectdlnlityy  that 
idol  of  the  English  mind,  that  wretched  counteneit  of 
vii-tue,  for  the  love  which  they  bear  to  Christ  in  His 
suffering  membei's,  have  been  insulted  and  beaten  in 
the  "-treets  of  London  in  the  face  of  day,  and  only  be- 
cause of  the  habit  they  wore, — the  badge  of  no  common 
vocation, — the  nun's  black  dress,  the  liveiy  of  the  poor. 
The  parallel  is  consoling  to  them,  perhaps  also  to  us ; 
for  is  not  Francesca  now  the  chenshed  saint  of  Rome, 
the  pride  and  the  love  of  every  Roman  heart?  And 
mav  not  the  day  come  when  our  patient,  heroic  nuns 
will  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  God's  best  blessings,  in  a 
city  where  luxwy  runs  riot  on  the  one  hand,  and  star- 
vation and  miseiy  reign  on  the  other  ?  Will  not  the 
eye  follow  them  with  love,  and  many  rise  up  to  call 
them  blessed  ?  Their  coiuf^e  is  like  bet's ;  may  their  end 
be  the  same ! 

The  historians  of  our  saint  relate  that  on  one  of  the 
occasions  above  alluded  to,  when  her  only  resource  w^as 
to  bew-  for  her  sick  charges,  she  went  to  the  Basilica  of 
San  Lorenzo  without  the  walls,  where  was  the  station 


CII.  VI.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  HOME. 


tm 


of  the  (lay,  and  sotttftd  liei-self  nmonp;st  the  crowd  of 
hog-g-ai-s  who,  nccordinj;^  to  custom,  w»'ro  there  assem- 
bled. From  the  risin*^  of  the  sun  to  the  rinj^nng'  of  the 
ves|)er-bell,  she  sat  there  side  by  side  with  tlie  hime,  tlie 
deformed,  and  the  bhnd.  Slie  }ield  out  h(>r  hand  a^ 
they  did,  g'ladly  enduring*,  not  tiie  sembhince,  but  the 
reality  of  that  deep  humiliation.  When  she  had  re- 
ceived enoug'h  wherewith  to  feed  the  j)oor  at  home, 
she  rose,  ana  making*  a  sign  to  her  companions,  entei-ed 
the  old  basilica,  adored  tlie  Blessed  Sacmment,  and  thtui 
walked  back  the  long*  and  weary  way,  blessing  God  all 
the  while,  and  rejoicing-  that  she  was  counted  worthy 
to  suffer  for  His  (lear  sake. 

Those  who  are  well  acquainted  with  Home,  who 
Iiave  frequented  the  stations  and  love  the  basilicas,  and 
especially  that  venerable  old  pile  of  San  Lorenzo,  with 
its  upper  and  lower  chapel,  its  magnificent  columns,  its 
beautiful  pulpit,  its  wide  portico  with  half-effaced  fres- 
coes, and  its  rare  mosaics — those  paintings  in  stone 
which  time  itself  cannot  destroy;  those  whose  eyes 
have  g*azed  with  delig'ht  on  the  glorious  \iew  as  they 
approached  it,  and  whose  ears  are  familiar  with  the 
sound  of  the  mendicant's  voice,  to  whom  tl?e  remem- 
bi-ance  of  Francesca's  stoiy  may  have  won,  p3rchance, 
an  additional  dole, — can  foi-m  to  themselves  with  ease 
a  picture  of  the  scene ;  and  when  they  visit  it  agnin  in 
reality,  may  be  tempted  to  look  out  for  some  saintly 
face,  for  some  sweet,  angel-like  countenance,  amongst 
the  sordid  and  suffering  groups  before  them,  and  won- 
der if  ever  again  such  charity  as  Fi-ancesca's  will  ani- 
mate a  woman's  heart.  Not  long*  ago,  for  a  few  short 
years,  in  Francesca's  city,  there  was  one  who  bade  fair 
to  emulate  the  virtues  of  the  dear  saint  of  Rome ;  but 
as  she  was  rapidly  treading"  in  her  footsteps,  and  her 
name  was  becoming*  every  aav  more  dear  to  the  people 
anibngst  whom  she  dwelt,  cteath  snatched  her  away. 
Her  memory  remains,  and  the  poor  bless  it  even  now. 
May  God  ^rant  us  such  in  our  own  land !  Saints  are 
sorely  needed  in  these  busy,  restless,  money-loving 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 

time^l  of  out's ;  as  much  as,  or  more  than,  in  the  wild 
middle  ag-es,  or  the  troubled  centuries  that  followed. 

Francesca  possessed  a  small  vineyard  near  the  church 
of  St.  Paul  without  the  walls ;  and  in  that  time  of  scarcity, 
when  every  little  resource  had  to  be  turned  to  account 
for  the  purposes  of  charity,  she  used  to  go  there  and 
gather  up  into  parcels  and  fag'gx)ts  the  long"  ffrass  and 
the  dry  branches  of  the  vines.  When  she  had  collected 
a  certain  numt?^  of  these  packets,  she  laid  them  on  an 
ass,  and  went  through  the  town,  stopping*  at  various 
poor  dwellings  to  distribute  the  fruits  of  her  labours. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  her  donkey  stumbled  and  fell, 
and  the  wood  which  he  was  carrying  rolled  to  a  con- 
siderable distance.  Francesca  was  looking  about  her  in 
considerable  embarrassment,  not  able  to  lift  it  up  again, 
when  a  Roman  nobleman,  Paolo  Lelli  Petrucci,  a  friend 
of  her  husband's,  chanced  to  pass  by.  Astonished  at 
seeing  her  in  such  a  predicament,  he  hastened  to  her 
assistance;  and  she  received  it  with  as  much  serenity 
and  composure  as  if  her  occupation  had  been  the  most 
natural  tiling  in  the  world. 

By  this  time  her  virtues  were  destined  to  receive  a 
wonderftil  rewai-d,  and  God  bestowed  upon  her  the  gift 
of  healing  to  a  miraculous  degree.  Many  a  sick  person 
given  over  by  the  physicians  was  restored  to  health  by 
the  single  touch  of  her  hands,  or  the  prayers  which  she 
offered  up  in  their  behalf.  More  than  sixty  of  these 
cases  wei-e  well  attested  at  the  time  of  her  canonisation. 
Francesca  was  profoundly  sensible  of  the  blessedness  of 
this  gift,  and  grateful  for  the  power  it  afibrded  her  of 
relieving  the  suffering  of  others ;  but  at  the  same  time 
her  humility  prompted  her  to  conceal  it  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. She  endeavoured  to  do  so  by  making*  up  an  oint- 
ment composed  of  oil  and  wax,  which  she  applied  to  the 
sick,  v/hatever  their  disease  might  be,  in  the  hope  that 
their  recovery  would  always  be  ascribed  to  its  efficacy. 
But  this  holy  subterfuge  did  not  always  succeed.  The 
physicians  analysed  the  ointment,  ana  declared  that  it 
possessed  in  itself  no  healing*  qualities  whatsoever. 


I 


TH.  VI.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  RUMB. 


m 


Oue  day,  upon  entering"  tlie  Hospital  of  the  Tras- 
tevere,  Francesca  found  a  poor  mule-driver,  who  had 
just  been  carried  in,  his  foot  having-  been  crusiied  by 
the  fall  of  a  scythe ;  it  was  in  such  a  lion'ible  and  hope- 
less condition,  that  the  surgeons  were  about  to  am])u- 
tate  the  limb.  Francesca,  hearing  the  cries  of  the  poor 
wretch,  bent  over  him,  exhorting  him  to  patience;  and 
promising"  him  a  speedy  relief,  applied  some  of  her  oint- 
ment to  his  mangled  foot.  The  wounds  instantly  closed, 
the  pain  vanished,  and  a  short  time  after  the  mule- 
driver  returned  to  his  customary  occupation. 

Some  days  afteiwards,  the  two  sistere  were  returning 
home  from  the  basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran ;  and  passing* 
by  the  bridge  of  Santa  Maria,  now  the  Ponte  Rotto, 
(the  very  ancient  little  church  opposite  to  the  Temple 
of  Vesta),  they  saw  extended  on  the  pavement  a  man 
whose  arm  had  been  severed  by  a  sword-cut ;  and  unable 
to  procure  medical  assistance,  the  poor  wretch  had  lain 
there  ever  since  in  excruciating-  toi-tures,  which  hud  re- 
duced him  to  the  last  extremity.  Fi*ancesca,  full  of 
compassion  for  his  miserable  condition,  carried  him  with 
Vannozza's  aid  into  her  house,  put  him  in  a  warm  bath, 
cleansed  his  wound  with  the  greatest  care,  and  dressed 
it  with  her  ointment.  In  a  short  time,  and  without  any 
medical  assistance,  the  severed  limb  was  restored  to  its 
usual  position,  and  a  complete  recovery  ensued. 

The  bowl  in  which  San  Francesca  compounded  this 
miraculous  remedy  is  preserved  in  the  convent  of  Tor 
di  Specchi.  During  the  novena  of  the  saint,  when  tbe 
doors  are  thrown  open  to  crowds  of  devout  pei-sons,  it 
stands  on  a  table  in  the  entrance-chamber,  and  is  daily 
filled  by  the  nuns  with  fresh  sweet-smelling  flowei-s— 
violets,  primroses,  anemones,  and  the  like.  The  visitor 
may  bear  away  with  him  some  of  these  fragrant  remem- 
brances, and  cherish  them  for  her  sake,  the  odour  of 
v/hose  virtues  will  last  as  long  as  the  seasons  retuni,  and 
llie  spring  brings  back  to  our  gladdened  sight  those 

•*  Sweet  nurslings  of  the  vernal  skies, 
Bcthed  with  soft  airs  and  fed  with  dew." 


58 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


)    ! 


A  still  more  wonderful  miracle  than  these  occurred 
about  this  time.  Francesca  and  her  faithful  companion 
Vannozza  had  been  visiting  Sevoml  churches  in  that 
part  of  Rome  which  g'oes  by  the  name  of  the  Rioue  de 
Montz.  Passing"  before  a  mean-looking*  dwelling",  they 
heai"d  the  most  heart-rending"  sobs  and  cries.  Stopping" 
to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  this  despair,  they  found  a 
mother  frantically  weeping;  over  the  body  of  a  child, 
who  had  died  a  few  houre  after  its  birth  without  having 
received  baptism.  Fi-ancesca  gently  reproved  the  woman 
for  the  delay  which  had  endang-ered  her  son's  salvation; 
then,  taking  the  little  corpse  into  her  arms,  she  uttered 
a  fei-vent  prayer,  and  in  a  moment  gave  back  the  baby 
to  its  mother,  ftilly  restored  to  life  and  health.  She  de- 
sired her  to  have  it  instantly  baptised,  and  then  made  her 
escape,  tnisting  that  she  should  remain  undiscovered; 
and  indeed  the  woman  whose  child  she  had  been  the 
means  of  saving  had  never  seen  her,  and  wondered 
awhile  if  an  angel  had  visited  her  in  disguise ;  but  the 
description  of  her  dress,  and  tlie  miracle  she  hud  worked, 
convinced  all  wlio  heai*d  of  it  that  the  visitor  was  no 
other  than  the  wife  of  Lorenzo  Ponziano. 

Compassionate  to  otliers,  Francesca  was  mercilessly 
severe  to  hereelf ;  her  austerities  kept  pace  with  her  in- 
creasing sanctity.  She  was  enabled  to  caiTy  on  a  mode 
of  life  which  must  have  mined  her  health  had  it  not  been 
miraculously  sustained.  Slie  slept  only  for  two  hours, 
and  that  on  a  nan-ow  plank  covered  with  nothing  but 
a  bit  of  rough  carpet.  The  continual  wai-fiu-e  whicn  she 
waged  against  her  body  brouglit  it  more  and  more  into 
subjection  to  the  spirit;  and  her  senses  were  under  such 
perfect  contivl,  that  natural  repugnances  vanished,  and 
the  superior  part  of  the  soul  reigned  supremely  over  the 
meaner  instincts  and  inclinations  of  the  flesh.  Such 
was  her  si)iritual  proficiency  at  the  early  a^re  of  tv;enty- 
Bine. 


H    VII.]  8T.  FBANCRA  OF  ROME. 


59 


/  i 


(JHAPrER  vir. 


iCr«5GRr/STA  APPE4RS  TO  HIS  MOTHER — AN  ARCHiNOEL  IS  ASSIGNED 
TO  HER  AS  A  VISIBLE  UUARDIAN  TUROUQHCOT  HER  LIFE. 

EvANOELisTA  had  bpen  dead  about  a  year.  His  image 
was  ever  present  to  his  mother's  heai*t ;  she  saw  him  in 
spirit  at  the  feet  of  his  Lord.  Never,  even  in  her  inmost 
soul,  was  she  conscious  of  a  wish  to  recall  him  from  the 
heaven  he  had  r*^ached  to  the  earthly  home  which  he 
had  left  desolnte;  but  not  for  one  moment  could  she 
forg-et  the  child  of  her  love,  or  cease  to  invoke  him  as  a 
celestial  guardian  akin  to  those  who  had  so  long"  hovered 
about  her  path.  Her  faith  and  resignation  were  richly 
rewarded.  God  g-ave  her  a  siglit  of  her  child  in  heaven, 
and  he  was  sent  to  announce  to  her  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  favours  that  was  ever  vouchsafed  to  a 
daug-hter  of  Adam.  Francesca  was  praying  one  mom- 
ing"  in  her  oratory,  when  she  became  conscious  that  the 
little  room  was.  suddenly  illuminated  in  a  supernatural 
manner;  a  mysterious  light  shone  on  every  side,  and 
its  radiance  seemed  to  pervade  not  only  her  outward 
senses,  but  the  inmost  deptl  ,s  of  her  being,  and  to  awaken 
in  her  soul  a  strange  sensation  of  joy.  She  raised  her 
eyes,  and  Evanorelista  stood  before  her;  his  familiar 
aspect  unci  anged,  but  his  featiu«s  transfigured  and 
beaming  witli  ineffable  splendour. 

By  his  side  was  anotluT  of  the  same  size  and  height 
as  himself,  but  more  beautiftil  still.  Fi-ancesca's  lips 
move,  but  in  vain  she  seeks  to  articulate ;  the  joy  and 
the  teiTor  of  that  moment  are  too  intense.  Her  son 
draws  near  to  her,  and  with  an  angelic  expression  of 
love  and  respect  he  bows  down  his  head  and  salutes 
her.  Tlien  the  mother's  feelings  predominate  ;  she  for- 
gets every  thing  but  his  presence,  and  opens  her  arms 
to  him ;  Imt  it  is  no  earthly  form  that  she  encloses  within 
them,  and  the  glorif.ed  body  escapes  her  gi'asp.     And 


60 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  HOME. 


now  slie  gains  courag-e  and  addresses  him, — ^in  broken 
accents  indeed,  but  with  treroblincf  eagerness. 

"  Is  it  you,  indeed  ?  (she  cries)  0  son  of  my  heart ! 
Whence  do  you  come  ?  who  are  your  companions  ? 
what  your  abode  ?  Angel  of  God,  hast  thou  thou^nc 
of  thy  mother,  of  thy  poor  father  ?  Amidst  the  joys 
of  Paradise  hast  thou  remembered  earth  and  its  sufifer* 


fit 


mgs 

Evangelista  looked  up  to  haaven  with  an  imutter- 
able  expression  of  peace  and  of  joy ;  and  then,  fixing 
his  eyes  on  his  mother,  he  said,  "  My  abode  is  with 
God ;  my  companions  ai*e  the  angels ;  our  sole  occupa- 
tion the  contemplation  of  the  Divine  pei*fections, — the 
endless  source  oi  all  happiness.  Eternally  united  with 
God,  we  have  no  will  but  His ;  and  our  peace  is  as 
complete  as  His  Being  is  infinite.  He  is  Himself  our 
joy,  and  that  joy  knows  no  limits.  There  are  nine 
choirs  of  angels  in  heaven,  and  the  higher  orders  of  an- 
gehc  spirits  instinct  Ji  the  Divine  mysteries  the  less 
exalted  intelligences.  If  you  wish  to  know  my  place 
amongst  them,  my  mother,  learn  chat  God,  of  His  great 
goodness,  has  appointed  it  in  the  second  chou*  of  an- 
gels, and  the  first  hierai'chy  of  archangels.  This  my 
companion  is  higher  than  I  am  in  rank,  as  he  is  more 
brignt  and  fair  in  aspect.  T^^e  Divine  Majesty  has 
assigned  him  to  you  as  a  guardian  during  the  remainder 
of  your  earthly  pilgrimage.  Night  and  day  by  your 
side,  he  will  assist  you  in  every  way.  Never  amidst 
the  joys  of  Paradise  have  I  for  an  Jistant  forgotten 
you,  or  any  of  my  loved  ones  on  earth.  I  knew  you 
were  resigned ;  but  I  also  knew  that  your  heart  would 
rejoice  at  beholding  me  once  more,  and  God  has  per- 
mitted that  I  should  thus  gladden  your  eyes.  But  I 
have  a  message  for  you,  my  mother.  God  asks  for 
Agnese :  she  may  not  taiTy  long  with  you ;  her  place 
is  ready  in  the  INew  Jenisalem.  Be  of  good  comfort, 
nay,  rather  rejoice  that  your  chiUren  are  safely  housed 
in  heaven."  Evangelista  communed  a  shoit  while  longer 
with  his  mother,  and  then,  bidding  her  tenderly  fare- 


CH.  VII.j  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


61 


well,  disappeared ;  but  the  archangel  remained,  and  to 
the  day  of  her  death  was  ever  present  to  her  sight. 

She  now  understood  the  sense  of  the  vision  thnt 
had  been  sent  her  at  the  time  of  Agnese's  birth.  It 
was  not  for  the  cloister,  but  for  heaven  itself,  that 
God  claimed  her  young*  dau^i-hter;  and  during  the  few 
remaining  days  of  her  earthly  life  she  waited  upon  her 
with  a  tenderness  mingled  with  veneration;  looking 
upon  her  as  one  who  scarcely  belonged  to  the  rougli 
world  she  was  so  soon  to  leave.  And  the  chosen  child 
of  God,  the  little  maiden  on  whom  the  mystic  dove  had 
i-ested  in  its  flight,  soon  drooped  like  a  flower  in  an  un- 
genial  air, — soon  gave  her  fond  mother  a  last  kiss  and 
a  last  smile;  and  then  her  gentle  spirit  went  to  seek 
her  brother's  kindred  soul.  Tuey  were  buried  together ; 
and  the  day  was  now  come  for  Francesca,  when  earthly 
happiness  alto^-ether  ^  anishes,  when  life  has  its  duties 
but  has  lost  all  its  joys, — and  then,  what  a  lesson  is  in 
the  story !  God's  angel  henceforward  stands  visibly  by 
her  side,  and  never  leaves  her ! 

When  Evangelista  had  pai-ted  from  his  mother,  she 
had  fallen  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  blessed  God  for 
His  great  mercy  to  her,  the  most  worthless  of  sinners, 
for  such  she  deemed  herself;  and  then,  turning  to  the 
angel,  who  stood  near  her,  she  implored  him  to  be  her 
guide  and  director ;  to  point  out  the  way  she  was  to 
tread ;  to  combat  with  her  against  Satan  and  his  minis- 
tere ;  and  to  teach  her  every  day  to  become  more  like 
in  spirit  to  his  and  her  Loi-d.  When  she  left  the  ora- 
tory, the  ai'changel  followed  her,  and,  enveloped  in  a 
halo  of  light,  remained  always  visible  to  her,  though 
imperceptible  to  othere.  The  radiance  that  sun-ounded 
him  was  so  dazzling,  that  she  could  seldom  look  upon 
him  with  a  fixed  gaze.  At  night,  and  in  the  most  pro- 
found darkness,  she  could  always  write  and  read  by  the 
light  of  that  supernatural  brightness.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, when  in  prayer,  or  in  conference  with  her  director, 
or  engaged  in  straggles  witli  the  Evil  One,  she  was 
enabled  to  sec  his  form  with  perfect  distinctness,  and 


62 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


by  Don  Antonio's  orders  thus  described  him : — '^  His 
stature,"  she  said,  "  is  that  of  a  child  of  about  nine  years 
okl ;  his  aspect  full  of  sweetness  and  majesty ;  his  eyes 
generally  turned  towards  heaven :  words  cannot  de- 
scribe the  divine  purity  of  that  gaze.  His  brow  is 
always  serene ;  his  glances  kindle  in  the  soul  tlie  flame 
of  ardent  devotion.  When  I  look  upon  him,  1  under- 
stand the  glory  of  the  ang-elic  nature,  and  the  degraded 
condition  of  our  own.  He  wears  a  long  shining  robe, 
and  over  it  a  tunic,  either  as  white  as  the  lihes  of  the 
field,  or  of  the  colour  of  a  red  rose,  or  of  the  hue  of 
the  sky  when  it  is  most  deeply  blue.  When  he  walks 
by  my  side,  his  feet  are  never  soiled  by  the  mud  of  the 
streets  or  the  dust  of  the  road." 

Francesca's  conduct  was  now  directed  in  the  most 
infallible  manner.  By  a  special  privilege,  a  companion 
had  been  assigned  to  ner  from  the  heavenly  hierarchy; 
and  if  she  committed  any  faults,  error  could  not  now 
be  pleaded  in  excuse.  Her  actions,  her  words,  and  her 
thoughts,  were  to  be  ever  on  a  par  with  those  of  the 
sinless  Being  who  was  to  be  her  guide  throughout  her 
earthly  pilgi'image.  It  was  an  awful  responsibility,  a 
startling  favour ;  but  trusting  in  God's  grace,  though 
fully  aware  of  her  own  weakness,  she  did  not  shrink 
from  the  task.  Her  greatest  wish  had  always  been  to 
attain  a  perfect  conformity  with  the  Divine  Will,  and 
now  this  mysterious  guidance  ftimished  her  with  the 
means  of  knowing  that  Will  in  its  minutest  details.  In 
her  struggles  with  the  Evil  One,  the  archangel  became 
her  shield  of  defence  ;  the  rays  of  light  which  darted 
fi^m  his  brow  sent  the  demons  howling  on  their  way. 
Thus  protected,  she  feared  neither  the  wiles  nor  the  vio- 
lence of  Satan. 

The  presence  of  her  heavenly  guide  was  also  to 
Francesca  a  mirror,  in  which  she  could  see  reflected 
every  imperfection  of  her  fallen,  though  to  a  great  ex- 
tent renewed,  nature.  Much  as  she  had  discerned,  even 
fi-om  her  earliest  childhood,  of  the  innate  con-uption  of 
her  heart,  yet  she  often  told  her  director,  that  it  was 


CH.  "II.J  ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


08 


only  sinco  she  had  been  continually  in  the  presence  of 
an  ang^elic  companion  that  she  had  realised  its  amount. 
So  that  this  divine  favour,  far  from  exaltin^f  her  in  her 
ffwn  eyes,  served  to  maintain  her  in  the  deepest  humi- 
lity. When  slie  committed  the  slightest  fault,  the 
ang-el  seemed  to  disappear;  and  it  was  only  after  she  had 
carefully  examined  her  conscience,  discovered  her  fail- 
ing-, lamented  and  humbly  confessed  it,  that  he  returned. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  she  was  only  disturbed  by  a 
doubt  or  a  scruple,  he  was  wont  to  bestow  on  her  a  kind 
look,  which  dissipated  at  once  her  uneasiness.  When 
he  spoke,  she  used  to  see  his  lips  move;  and  a  voice  of 
indescribable  sweetness,  but  which  seemed  to  come  fi'om 
a  distance,  reached  her  ears.  His  guidance  enlightened 
her  chiefly  with  regard  to  the  difficulty  she  felt  in  sub- 
mitting to  certain  cares  and  obligations  which  belonged 
to  her  position  as  mistress  and  head  of  a  family.  She 
was  apt  to  imagine  that  the  houi-s  thus  employed  were 
lost  in  Goa's  sight ;  but  her  celestial  guai-dian  corrected 
her  judgment  on  this  point,  and  taught  her  to  discern 
the  Divine  will  in  eveiy  little  irksome  worldly  duty, 
in  every  trifling  contradiction,  as  well  as  in  great  trials 
and  on  important  occasions.  The  light  of  the  angelic 
presence  gave  her  also  a  mai-vellous  insight  into  the 
tlioughts  of  othei-s.  Their  sins,  their  errors,  their  evil 
inclinations,  were  supematurally  i-evealed  to  her,  and 
often  caused  her  the  Keenest  sorrow.  She  was  enabled 
through  this  gift  to  bring  back  to  God  many  a  wan- 
dering soul,  to  frustrate  bad  designs,  and  reconcile  the 
most  inveterate  enemies.  Francesca  used  sometimes 
to  say  to  Don  Antonio,  when  she  requested  his  permis- 
sion for  some  additional  austerities  which  he  hesitated 
in  granting,  "  Be  not  afraid,  father ;  the  archangel  will 
not  allow  me  to  proceed  too  far  in  that  course.  He  al- 
ways checks  me  when  I  am  tempted  to  transCTess  the 
bounds  of  pnidence."  And  Don  Antonio  believed  it, 
for  his  penitent  always  spoke  the  exact  tmth;  and  ia 
the  miraculous  manner  in  which  she  over  and  ovei* 
again  read  his  most  seci-et  thoughts,  and  manifested 


64 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


them  to  Limy  he  had  a  pled^  of  her  veracity,  as  we'll 
as  of  her  extraordinary  sanctity. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FRANCBSCA'S  illness  and  recovery — HER  TISION  OF  HELL — RK- 
BTORATION  OP  TRANQUILLITY  IN  ROME — RETURN  OF  FRANCBSCA^S 
HUSBAND — HBR  POWER  IN  CONVERTING  SINNERS. 

Four  long  years  had  elapsed^  during  which  Rome 
had  heen  given  up  to  dissensions  ana  civil  discoi'd, 
while  epidemics  of  various  kinds  were  continually  suc- 
ceeding each  other,  and  caiTying  off  many  of  its  in- 
habitants. At  the  opening  of  the  year  1414,  Sigis- 
mund,  king  of  the  Romans,  and  John  XXIII.,  had 
agreed  to  convene  a  council  at  Constance;  and  tlie 
faithful  were  beginning  to  cherish  a  hope  that  the 
schism  which  had  so  long  desolated  the  Church  might 
be  drawing  to  a  close.  But  this  distant  prospect  of 
relief  was  not  sufficient  to  counterbalance  the  actual 
sufferings  of  the  moment ;  and  Francesca  beheld  with 
ever-increasing  pain  the  amount  of  sin  and  of  misery 
wliich  filled  the  city  of  her  birth.  Her  exertions,  her 
laboui-s,  her  bodily  and  mental  trials,  told  at  last  upon 
her  enfeebled  frnme,  and  about  this  time  she  fell  dan- 

{•'urously  ill.  Almost  all  her  acquaintances,  and  even 
ler  own  family,  fled  fi*om  her,  temfied,  it  would  seem, 
by  the  idea  of  contagion.  Yannozza  alone  remained, 
and  never  left  her  bed-side.  Some  there  were  who 
came  to  visit,  but  not  for  the  pm-pose  of  consoling  her; 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  to  reproach  the  dying  saint  with 
what  they  called  her  absura  infatuation,  which  had  in- 
troduced the  plague  into  her  abode,  and  endangered  her 
own  life,  for  the  sake  of  a  set  of  worthless  wretches. 
She  listened  with  her  accustomed  gentleness,  without 
attempting  to  defend  hereelf  from  the  charge.  Her  soul 
was  ])erfectly  at  peace ;  she  could  joyfully  accept  tha 


\ 


CH.  VIII.J  ST.  FRANCES  OF  RUMB. 


6R 


\- 


death  that  now  appeared  inevitable;  she  could  thank 
God  earaestly  that  the  stnigcle  was  past,  and  £van--. 

f^'ehsta  and  Agfnese  safely  lodged  in  His  aims.  She 
ooked  forward  to  a  speedy  reunion  with  these  beloved 
ones ;  and  marked  the  progress  of  her  disease  as  the 
prisoner  watches  the  process  by  which  his  chains  are 
riven.  A  few  words  of  love  and  faith  she  now  and  then 
whispered  to  Vannozza ;  at  other  times  she  remained 
absorbed  in  divine  contemplation.  OversLadowed  by 
an  angel's  wing,  calm  in  the  midst  of  severe  suffering, 
she  performed  her  habitual  devotions  in  as  far  as  her 
strength  permitted,  and  only  gave  up  painful  penances 
by  the  express  order  of  her  director.  Sne  who  had  heaieu 
so  many  sick  persons  cared  not  to  be  healed  herself. 

It  was  not,  however,  God's  will  that  she  should  die 
so  soon.  After  passing  several  months  in  prolonged 
sufferings,  her  health  was  suddenly  restored.  It  was 
at  this  period  of  her  life  that  she  had  the  awfiil  and 
detailed  visions  of  hell  which  have  remained  on  recoi'd, 
and  in  which  many  salutary  and  fearfid  lessons  are  con- 
veyed. She  was  rapt  in  spirit,  and  carried  through 
the  realms  of  endless  woe.  What  was  once  chosen  by 
the  genius  of  man  as  a  theme  for  its  highest  poetic  effort 
— a  journey  through  "  the  moumfiil  city,  amongst  the 
lost  people  * — ^was  given  to  the  saint  in  mystic  trance 
to  accomplish.  An  angel  led  her  through  these  terrific 
scenes ;  and  an  intuitive  perception  was  given  to  her  of 
the  various  sufferings  of  the  condemned  souls.  So  deep 
was  the  impression  which  this  tremendous  vision  left 
on  Francesca's  soul,  that  never  afterwards,  as  long  as 
she  lived,  could  she  speak  of  it  without  tears  and  ti-em- 
bling;  and  she  would  often  emphatically  warn  those 
persons  who,  trusting  too  implicitly  to  God's  mercy, 
forgot  in  their  reckless  security  the  terrors  of  His 
justice.  Some  of  the  fresco  paintings  in  the  convent 
of  Tor  di  Specchi  represent  tnis  vision,  and  are  visible 
to  this  day.  ^> 

*     Per  me  si  va  nella  oitU  dolentc. 

Per  me  si  va  tra  la  perduta  gente.'* — Daxtb. 


66 


6T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


The  PoiH)  John  XXIII.,  nnd  Sigfisinund,  king  of 
the  Romans,  had  at  last  succeeded  in  fbrmingf  a  league, 
with  the  object  of  delivering'  Italy  fi-om  the  intolerable 
yoke  of  Ladislas,  king*  of  Naples.  This  tymnt  had  as- 
sembled a  numerous  aimy,  and  was  marching*  upon 
Bologna;  but  the  measm'e  of  his  iniquities  was  now 
full,  and  the  hand  of  death  aiTcsted  him  on  his  wa}'. 
An  illness,  occasioned  by  his  incredible  excesses,  seized 
him  between  Nurni  and  Peinigia,  and  he  died  on  tijo 
5th  of  August,  1414.  The  sovereign  Pontiff,  free  from 
the  teiTOi-s  which  this  fierce  usurper  had  inspii-ed,  and 
yielding  lo  the  importunities  of  the  cai-dinal,  set  out  for 
Constance,  where  lie  was  to  meet  the  Emperor  Sigis- 
niund.  Tlus  same  Council  of  Constance  was  eventually  to 
be  the  means  of  making  void  his  election,  and  of  ending 
the  gi'eat  schism  of  the  West,  by  placing  in  the  chair 
of  St.  Peter  the  illustrious  Pontiff  MaitinV.  The  death 
of  Ladislas  restored  p  ice  to  the  states  of  the  Church, 
and  in  particular  to  tlie  city  of  Rome.  With  the  ces- 
sation of  civil  broils  the  famine  disappeared ;  and  with 
it  the  gi-ievous  pestilence  that  had  so  long  accompanied 
it.  The  fields  were  cultivated  once  more ;  the  peasants 
gTadually  returned  to  their  fai'ms;  the  fiocks  grazed 
unmolested  in  the  green  pastures  of  the  Campngna; 
and  the  whilom  desei-ted  provinces  smiled  ag-ain  under 
the  influence  of  returning  prosperity. 

The  sufferings  of  the  Ponziani  were  also  at  an  end. 
They  were  recalled  from  banishment,  and  their  pi-ojierty 
was  restored.  Lorenzo  and  his  son — now  his  only  son — 
Baptista,  returned  to  their  home,  and  to  the  wife  and 
mother  they  had  so  longed  to  behold  again.  But  mixed 
with  sorrow  was  the  cup  of  joy  which  that  hour  seemed 
to  offer.  Lorenzo,  who  a  few  yeare  back  was  in  the 
prime  of  life — strong,  healthy,  and  energetic, — he  who 
had  met  every  foe  and  every  trial  without  shrinking, 
was  now  broken  by  long  sufferings ;  aged  more  through 
exile  and  grief  than  through  yeai-s.  We  are  told  that 
when  he  entered  his  palace  and  looked  upon  his  wife, 
deep  sobs  shook  his  breast,  and  be  bui-st  into  an  agony 


CH.  VIII.J  ST.  PRANCES  OP  ROMK. 


e; 


of  teal's.  Tho  two  beautiful  chiliiien  wliich  he  ha6 
left  by  ber  side,  whei-e  were  they/  Gone!  never  to 
gloilden  liis  eyes  agtiin,  or  make  music  in  his  home  b^ 
the  sound  of  their  sweet  voices.  And  Francesca  herself, 
pale  with  recent  illness,  spent  with  ceaseless  labours, 
she  stood  before  him  the  perfect  picture  of  a  woman 
and  a  saint,  with  the  divine  expression  of  her  beloved 
face  unchanged ;  but  how  chang-ed  in  form,  in  bloom, 
in  brig-htness,  in  every  thing  but  that  Ijeauty  which 
holiness  g^ves  and  time  cannot  efface ! 

Long  and  bitterly  he  wept,  and  Francesca  gentlj 
consoled  him.  She  told  him  how  Evangelista  had  aih 
peared  to  her ;  how  their  ciiildren  were  only  gone  befort 
them,  companions  now  of  tiiose  angels  they  had  so 
resembled  uj)on  earth.  She  whispered  to  him  that  one  of 
these  was  ever  at  her  side ;  and  when  he  looked  upon 
her,  and  remembered  all  slie  had  been  to  him,  doubtless 
he  found  it  easy  to  believe.  Taught  by  advei-sity,  more 
than  ever  influenced  by  his  admirable  wife,  Lorenzo 
henceforward  adopted  a  more  thoroughly  Christian 
mode  of  life  than  he  had  hitherto  followed.  Not  con- 
tent with  praising  her  virtues,  he  sought  to  imitate 
them,  and  practised  all  the  duties  of  migion  with  the 
utmost  strictness.  On  one  point  alone  his  conduct  was 
inconsistent  with  the  principles  he  professed,  and  this 
was,  while  it  lasted,  a  source  of  keen  anxiety  to  Fi-an- 
cesca.  There  was  a  Roman  nobleman  wno,  several 
^ears  before,  had  gnevously  offended  the  lord  of  Pon- 
ziano,  anu  with  whom  he  absolutely  refused  to  be  re- 
conciled. This  had  formerly  been,  and  was  again  after 
his  return,  an  occasion  of  scandal  to  many.  The  more 
eminent  were  his  vhrtues,  the  higher  his  religious  pro- 
fession, the  more  glaring  appeared  such  an  evident  in- 
consistency. Francesca  hei-self  was  blamed  for  it  J  and 
people  used  to  wonder  that  she  who  was  so  often  suc- 
cessful in  reconciling  strangers  and  promoting  peace  in 
famihes,  had  not  the  power  of  allaying  an  enmity  dis- 
creditable to  her  husband  and  at  variance  with  the 
dictates  of  religion.     At  last,  however,  by  diut  of 


08 


ftT.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


pationco  and  C'cntlnnesS)  site  accomplislied  what  had 
seemed  for  a  lon^"  time  a  hopeless  endeavour.  The 
hearts  of  both  parties  were  touched  with  remorse, 
Lorenzo,  who  was  the  np-gTieved  party,  granted  his 
enemy  a  full  and  fi*ee  pardon,  and  a  perfect  reconcilia- 
tion ensued.  This  triumph  over  himself  on  the  one 
point  where  the  stubborn  natural  will  had  so  lon^  held 
out,  resulted,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  in  a  rapid 
advance  towards  perfection. 

Lorenzo,  fi*om  this  time  forth,  withdrew  more  and 
more  fi*om  public  life,  refused  those  posts  of  honour  and 
of  responsibility  which  a  friendly  f^oveniment  pressed 
upon  iiim,  and  suiTcndered  himself  almost  entu-ely  to 
the  duties  and  exercises  of  a  strictly  religious  life.  In 
his  conversations  with  his  wife,  he  daily  gained  a  deeper 
insight  into  the  secrets  of  the  spiritual  life.  Far  fram 
complaining  of  the  amount  of  money  which  she  spent 
in  enarity,  of  the  existence  of  an  hospital  within  the 
walls  of  his  palace,  o*'her  various  and  laborious  works 
of  mercy,  or  of  the  lengvh  of  time  which  she  spent  in 
prayer,  lie  renewed  his  request  that  she  would,  in  every 
respect,  follow  what  seemed  to  her  the  will  of  God,  and 
the  most  perfect  manner  of  life.  Francesca  gratefully 
complied  with  this  his  desire.  She  watched  more 
strictly  than  ever  over  the  conduct  of  those  committed 
to  her  charge,  and  recommended  to  them  by  her  ex- 
ample even  more  than  by  her  precepts  an  exact  observ- 
ance of  the  commandments  of  God  and  of  the  Church. 
What  money  was  exclusi\  '^"  her  own,  she  regularly 
divided  into  two  parts :  with  one-half  she  bought  food 
for  the  poor,  with  the  other  clothing  and  medicine  for 
the  sick.  Her  own  dress  cost  her  next  to  nothing ;  she 
continued  to  wear  her  old  green  gown  patched-up  with 
any  odd  bits  of  cloth  that  fell  in  her  way.  Almost 
every  day  she  went  to  her  vineyai'd  and  gathered  wood 
for  the  fagp,'ots  which  she  gave  away  on  her  retuni. 
Her  relations,  her  fiiends,  and  even  her  servants,  were 
armoyed  at  her  employing  herself  in  such  labour,  and 
bitterly  complainea  of  the  humiliation  it  occasicued 


CI*,  nil.]        ST.  raxscEH  op  ro^ae*  §lfs 

tliem  to  meet  her  so  raennly  dressed  and  so  meanly 
occupufd.  Lontnzo  did  not  shnre  those  feeUnga;  on 
tlie  contrary,  he  used  to  look  upon  her  on  these  occa- 
sions with  an  increase  of  affection  and  veneration  ;  and 
»n|)[M)rted  by  his  appi-oval,  by  the  appi-obation  of  her 
director,  and  the  dictates  ot  her  own  conscience,  she 
cjir*»<^  'ittle  for  the  comments  of  others. 

The  kind  of  apostolate  which  by  this  time  she  ex- 
ercised in  Rome  was  very  remarkable ;  and  her  power 
over  men's  minds  and  iiearts  sciurely  short  of  mu-acu- 
lous.  There  was  a  subduing'  charm,  an  irresistible  in- 
fluence in  her  words  and  in  lier  maimer,  which  told  on 
every  variety  of  pei*sons.  The  expi*ession  of  her  coun- 
tenance, the  tones  of  her  voice,  her  mere  presence, 
worked  wondera  in  effecting-  convei-sions,  and  in  ani- 
mating to  virtue  those  wiiom  she  approached.  Her 
giflt  ot  readini^  the  thoughts  of  otiiei-s,  which  had  in- 
CT*eased  ever  smce  the  archangel  had  become  her  com- 
panion, enr.bled  her  in  seveitu  instances  to  bring  about 
conversions,  scveitd  of  which  are  related  at  length  by 
her  biographers. 

Amongst  them  was  that  of  a  young  woman  who 
was  lying  dangerously  ill  in  one  of  the  hospitals  of  tlie 
city.  Fmncesca  had  been  distributing  food  to  the  sick, 
and  was  then  attending  the  death-bed  of  a  young  man, 
who  was  about  to  receive  the  last  Sacraments,  when  a 

})iercing  crv  fi-om  one  of  the  adjoining  wai-ds  reached 
ler  eai-s.  She  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  found  a  young 
woman  stretched  on  one  of  the  nan*ow  beds,  and  dyinjj 
in  all  the  agonies  of  despair.  No  sooner  had  she  looked 
upon  the  poor  creature  than  her  dreadful  history  w<is 
supematuitilly  revealed  to  her.  She  had  some  time 
before  had  an  illegitimate  child,  and,  under  the  pressure 
of  shame  and  ten-or,  had  destroyed  it.  The  conscious- 
ness of  this  crime  was  driving  her  to  despair,  and  she 
had  not  courage  to  confess  it.  But  now  words  were 
whispered  in  her  ear,  which  went  straight  to  the  point 
on  which  the  awfiil  stniggle  turned;  which  spoke  »»f 
'he  honible  misery  -jf  dying  impenitent  and  unabsolved, 


maama 


70 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


and  of  the  boundloss  mercy  which  has  provided  a  re- 
medy for  the  deepest  stains  of  sin,  the  Wood  of  Jesus 
npplied  to  the  soul  by  the  grace  of  the  Sacrament.  For 
a  long  time  the  poor  creature  resisted,  tunied  her  head 
away,  and  refused  to  be  comforted.  But  when  Fran- 
cesca,  in  still  more  pressing-  terms,  alluded  to  the 
intolerable  burden  of  an  unacknowledged  crime,  of  the 
life-giving  humiliation  of  a  sincere  confession,  of  the 
dire  confusion  of  an  unforeiven  soul  on  the  day  of 
Judgment ;  of  the  love  of  Jesus,  of  the  tenderness  of 
ISfary,  of  the  indulgence  of  the  Church,  the  sweetness 
of  pardon,  the  peace  of  reconciliation;  then  the  stubborn 
heart  yielded,  the  seared  spirit  was  softened.  Burstings 
into  tears,  the  dying  suflFerer  exclaimed,  "  A  priest !  a 
priest ! "  and  one  was  at  hand  at  the  first  call  of  con- 
trition, and  answered  that  expiring  cry,  as  Mattliew  did 
the  royal  prophet's  confession :  "  The  Lord  forgives ; 
thou  shalt  not  perish."  And  shortly  aft«r  in  Fi-an- 
cesca's  arms  the  pardoned  sinner  breathed  her  last. 

About  the  same  time,  Francesca  was  the  means  of 
converting  one  who  would  doubtless  have  turned  with 
contempt  irom  the  poor  criminal  on  the  hospital-bed 
with  horror,  from  the  guilty  destroyer  of  her  own  child, 
and  deemed  that  to  breathe  the  same  air  as  such  a 
wretch  was  in  itself  contamination.  And  yet,  in  God's 
right,  Gentilezza  may  have  been  as,  or  perhaps  more 
guilty  than  the  sorely-tempted,  unprotected,  miserable 
being,  who  in  weakness  first,  and  then  in  terror,  almost 
in  madness,  had  rushed  into  crime ;  for  she  was  rich, 
noble,  and  beautiful;  had  been  nm^ed  in  pomp  and 
pleasure;  hunger  had  never  tempted,  and  scorn  never 
pursued  her.  Her  life  had  been  one  continued  scene  of 
amusement  and  of  splendour.  She  cared  for  nothing 
but  the  homage  of  men,  the  incense  of  admiration,  the 
intoxication  of  pleasure.  There  was  not  a  duty  that  she 
did  not  nt  gleet,  nor  one  sacred  obligation  that  she  felt 
hei-self  bound  to  observe.  We  are  not  told  that  she 
committed  what  men  call  crimes;  but  her  husband  she 
treated  with  open  contempt,  and  ridiculed  him  on  ac- 


I, 


the 
she 
felt 
she 
slie 
ac- 


CII.  VIII.J  ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME,  71 

count  of  his  attachment  to  religions  duties ;  her  chil- 
dren she  altogether  neglected,  and  al)aDdoned  them  to 
the  care  of  servants,  while  her  days  and  nights  were 
devoted  to  amusements  and  frivolities  of  every  descrip- 
tion. Several  of  the  Roman  ladies,  who  used  to  be  her 
companions,  had  been  induced,  by  Francesca's  example 
and  exhortation,  to  give  up  a  life  of  dissipation,  and 
adopt  one  better  befitting  the  Christian  profession ;  but 
Gentilezza  laughed  at  her  and  at  them,  and  used  to  say, 
with  insolent  derision,  that  she  had  no  vocation  for 
wearing  rags  and  cairying  faggots.  Perfectly  indif- 
ferent to  the  ridicule  with  which  she  sought  to  cover 
her,  Fi-ancesca  prayed  incessantly  for  the  vain  and 
haughty  woman,  who  seemed  beyond  the  reach  of  re- 
proach or  of  pe'i-suasion.  One  day,  however,  moved  by 
a  prophetic  impulse,  she  thus  addressed  her:  "You 
scorn  my  warnings,  Gentilezza;  you  laugh  at  the  ad- 
vice of  your  confessor.  But  remember  that  God  is 
powerftil,  and  not  to  be  mocked  with  impunity.  The 
day  is  at  hand  when  you  will  rue  the  stubbornness  of 
your  heart. " 

A  few  days  afterwards,  as  Gentilezza,  who  was  with 
child  at  the  time,  was  descending  the  stairs  of  her 
palace,  her  foot  slipped,  and  she  fell  headlong  to  the 
bottom.  Her  servants  raised  her  in  their  arms,  and 
found  her  all  but  dead.  The  physicians,  who  were 
summoned  in  haste,  judged  unfavourably  of  her  case, 
and  pronounced  that  her  child  must  infallibly  have  been 
killed  by  the  fall.  The  wretched  woman  bm-st  into  teai*s, 
but  it  was  not  so  much  her  own  danger,  or  the  death 
of  her  infant  which  she  deplored,  as  the  iniin  of  her 
beauty,  which  had  been  her  pride  and  her  snare.  Her 
features  had  been  so  injured  by  this  accident,  that  her 
face  was  completely  disfigiu-ed,  and  with  rebellious  anger 
slie  wept  over  her  lost  loveliness.  Francesca,  upon  hear- 
mg  of  tliis  event,  hurried  to  the  spot,  and  nui-sed  the 
suffering  woman  with  the  tenderest  care.  With  the 
utmost  kindness  she  reminded  her  of  tlie  duties  she  hud 
neglected,  and  of  the  means  of  grace  she  had  despised, 


1 


ij^- 


72 


ST.  FliAXCES  OF  ROME. 


and  exhorted  her  to  i-ecognise  the  hand  of  a  merciful 
God  in  tlie  chastisement  she  had  received.  She  spoke 
to  her  of  her  husband,  of  her  children,  of  the  tme  and 
sweet  vocations  of  a  wife  and  a  mother,  of  the  transi- 
tory nature  of  all  earthly  enjoyments;  and  into  the  heart 
suljdued  by  pain  and  disappointment  her  words  made 
their  way.  It  was  as  if  ocales  had  fellen  from  the  eyes 
of  the  sufferer.  **  God  is  just,"  she  exclaimed  at  last ; 
•*I  deserved  even  a  greater  punishment  than  I  have 
met  with.  Pray  for  me,  Francesca  Ponziano ;  pray  for 
me;  and  oh,  hear  me  promise,  that  if  my  life  is  spared,  I 
will  give  up  all  my  evil  ways,  and  henceforward  become 
a  Christian  wife  and  a  Christian  mother;  so  help  me 
God,  whom  I  have  so  grievously  offended !"  Francesca 
bent  over  her  and  embraced  her :  she  saw  that  her  re- 
pentimce  was  sincere,  and  bade  her  be  of  ffood  comfort, 
and  that  her  penitence  would  be  accepted.  And  so  it 
tuiTied  out;  for  Gentilezza  was  safely  delivered  of  a 
healthy  little  girl,  and  in  time  recovered  not  only  her 
health  but  the  beauty  which  she  had  once  tm*ned  to 
such  bad  account;  and,  while  faithful  to  her  promise, 
she  ceased  to  abuse  the  gifts  of  God,  and  devoted  her- 
self to  the  diligent  performance  of  her  duties,  became  a 
chosen  friend  of  Francesca's,  and  one  of  the  most  pious 
and  exemplary  matrons  in  Rome. 

Among  the  i-elatives  of  the  saint,  there  was  a  young 
man  whose  name  was  Giovanni  Antonio  Lorenzi,  whose 
temper  was  fieroe  and  violent  in  the  extreme.  Having 
been,  as  he  considered,  insulted  bv  another  Roman 
nobleman,  he  vowed  that  he  would  take  his  life,  and 
i-esolved  to  have  him  assassinated.  Francesca's  angel 
i-erealed  to  her  his  criminal  design,  which  was  as  yet 
confined  to  his  own  breast.  She  instantly  sent  for  the 
object  of  his  enmity,  and  charged  him,  as  he  valued  his 
existence,  not  to  leave  his  own  house  for  a  certain  number 
of  days ;  and  without  informing  him  of  tlie  reason,  ob- 
tained his  promise  to  that  effect,,  In  the  mean  time 
she  disclosed  to  Loronzi  her  knowledj^-e  of  his  guiltv 
project,  aud  induced  him  to  abandon  all  idea  ot  i«venge« 


CII.VIII.J  ST.  FRANCES  OF  HOME. 


73 


the 
his 
mber 
ob- 
time 
niltv 


Her  influence  over  Angelo  Savelli,  on  a  similar  oc- 
casion, was  still  more  remarkable.  He  had  quairelled 
with  a  young"  man  of  his  acquaintance,  and  a  duel  had 
ensued,  in  which  he  had  been  severely  wounded.  His 
ang-er  was  excessive  j  he  did  nothing*  but  threaten  and 
cui-se  his  adversary.  Neither  his  own  family  nor  that 
of  his  foe  could  succeed  in  appeasing*  him,  and  he  was 
dying"  with  vengeance  in  his  heai-t,  and  accents  of  i-age 
on  his  lips.  Francesca  was  informed  of  his  condition, 
and  went  straightway  to  his  bed-side.  She  had  no 
sooner  uttered  a  few  words,  than  he  bade  her  bnu"*  his 
enemy  to  him,  that  lie  mio;ht  forgive  and  embrace  Iiim. 
He  was  himself  astonishea  at  the  ciiange  thus  wrought 
by  her  presence,  and  declared  that  the  Holy  Spirit  had 
moved  him  by  her  means.  He  received  the  last  Sacrn- 
ment  with  the  best  dispositions,  and  died  soon  aftei*,  full 
of  peace  and  hope,  and  repeatedly  assured  his  family 
that  God,  in  mercy  to  his  soul,  had  sent  the  wife  of 
Ponziano  to  save  him  from  the  min  which  was  so  nearly 
ovei-taking  him. 

One  more  instance  amongst  many  of  Fmncesca's 
powers  of  pei-suasion  may  be  adduced,  in  addition  to  tlie 
preceding.  She  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  constant  attend- 
ant at  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  v/liere  her  con- 
fessor, Don  Antonio  Savello  officiated.  It  so  happened 
tliat  one  of  the  monks  of  his  oi-der,  Don  Ippolito,  who 
subsequently  played  a  part  in  the  history  of  the  saint, 
and  who  had  been  now  residing  ten  yeai-s  in  the  convent, 
was  about  this  time  appointed  to  the  office  of  saciistnn, 
although  he  had  previously  filled  with  distinc^^'on  divers 
impoi-tant  ftmctions  in  the  monast<?ry.  He  had  ac- 
ce])ted  this  appointment  out  of  obedience  and  humility 
of  spirit;  but  after  a  while  the  devil  sorely  tempted 
hiin  to  regret  having  done  so;  to  repine  at  what  Lo 
began  to  consider  as  an  act  of  tyranny  and  injustice; 
and  these  reflections,  gradually  indulged  in,  mnde  sjid 
havoc  of  his  peace  of  mind.  An  oppressive  melancholy 
brset  him;  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  resolution  of 
ft))andoning  his  habit  and  the  monastery,  if  the  oh- 


Ml 


•  *9 

■«  la 


74 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


noxious  appointment  were  not  cnncelled.  But  one  clay 
tliat  he  liad  been  invoking-  Mary,  our  Lady  of  good 
counsel,  he  felt  a  sudden  inspiration  to  g*o  and  commu- 
nicate to  Francesca  his  discontent,  his  restlessness,  and 
the  resolution  he  had  formed.  She  listened  attentively 
to  his  statement,  and  then  quietly  addressed  to  hira 
some  questions  which  placed  the  subject  in  its  true 
light.  She  asked  him  with  what  purpose  he  had  en- 
tered the  religious  state;  whom  he  had  intended  to  serve 
in  doing  sc ;  which  he  preferred,  the  God  who  descends 
and  dwells  on  the  altar,  or  the  servants  who  wait  upon 
Him  elsewhere?  Which  was  the  highest  post,  that 
of  watching  over  the  sanctuary,  in  company  with  the 
angels,  or  of  ministering  to  men,  however  holy  and 
eminent  they  mi"-ht  be,  as  would  be  his  lot  in  another 
office  ?  The  wisdom  and  simplicity  of  this  answer  went 
straight  to  Don  Ippolito's  heart.  He  instantly  ac- 
miiesced  in  its  justice,  and  went  directly  to  confession. 
With  eanaest  benevolence  he  betook  himself  to  the 
duties  of  his  at  once  humble  and  exalted  office,  edified 
all  his  brethren  by  his  unfeigned  humility,  and  became 
in  time  the  model  of  his  order.  He  was  afterwards 
successively  named  sub-piior,  and  then  prior  of  the  mon- 
astery of  Santa  Maria  Nuova;  and  was  later  the  asso- 
ciate and  support  of  Francesca  in  the  foundation  of  her 
congregation  of  the  Noble  Oblates  of  Tor  di  Specchi. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VKESH  SUPERNATURAL  EVENTS  IN  FRANCBSCA's  HISTORY  —  HER 
OBEDIENCE  TO  HER  HUSBAND  AND  TO  HER  CONFESSOR  RE- 
TT ARDED  BY  TWO  MIRACLES — MARRIAGE  OF  HER  SON,  AND 
ILL  CONDUCT  OP  HIS  WIFE  — HER  CONVERSION  THROUGH 
FRANCESCa's     prayers   —  FRESH    MIRACLES     WORKED     BY 

fra:s-cesca. 

Francesca's  obedience  to  her  director  in  spiritual 
inattei-s,  and  to  her  husband  in  other  resi)ects,  conti- 
nued to  be  exemplaiy.     In  both  instances  she  received 


CH..IX.]  ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME.  75 

a  miraculous  proof  that  God  regarded  with  especial 
fevour  that  humble  submission  of  spirit  in  one  whom 
He  endowed  with  such  marvellous  gifts.  The  story  oi 
these  miracles  miffht  v/ell  furaish  a  subject  to  a  painter 
or  a  poet.  One  day  that  she  and  Vannozza  haa  asked 
pei-mission  to  visit  the  shrine  of  Santa  Croce  in  Gierusa- 
lemme,  Don  Antonio  had  given  them  leave  to  do  so;  on 
condition  that,  as  an  exercise  of  self-control,  and  a  test 
of  their  obedience,  they  should  walk  there  and  back 
without  once  raising  tlieir  eyes  to  look  about  them. 
He  wished  them  to  employ  all  the  time  of  that  long 
walk  in  mertal  prayer  and  meditation.  They  proceeded 
on  their  wa;;  without  interiu]>ti jn,  till,  on  approaching 
the  hospital  adjoining  tlie  chuich  of  St.  John  of  La- 
teran,  a  sudden  rush  of  |H'ople  overtook  them,  and 
sounds  of  ten-or  were  henid  on  every  side.  A  bull  had 
escaped  from  its  leadrrs,  and  driven  fi-antic  by  the  cries 
of  the  multitude,  it  was  clashing  savagely  along.  Fran- 
ces*^ and  Vannozza  stood  directly  in  his  path.  Loud 
shouts  warned  them  to  get  out  of  the  way ;  but,  faith- 
ful to  the  obedience  they  had  received,  and  probably 
inwardly  assured  that  they  would  be  protected  against 
the  danger,  whatever  it  was,  they  advanced  calm  and 
immovea  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  The 
bystanders,  who  were  cowering  at  a  distance,  shud- 
dered; for  it  seemed  that  the  next  moment  must  s€€ 
them  under  the  feet  of  the  bellowing  animal.  But  no; 
the  same  influence  that  tamed  the  lions  in  Daniel's  den 
was  at  work  with  the  savage  beast.  At  sight  of  the  t\v^o 
women,  it  suddenly  stopped  in  its  course,  became  per- 
fectly tranquil,  stood  still  while  they  passed,  and  then 
resumed  its  flight;  while  they  proceeded  to  the  church 
without  having  experienced  the  slightest  emotion  of 
fear.  Thero  is  an  ancient  saying,  that  a  wild  beast  is 
appeased  by  the  sight  of  a  maiden  in  her  purity;  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  those  saints  ^vho  have  re- 
gained in  some  measure,  by  mortification,  penance,  and 
heroic  virtue,  the  purity  of  man's  original  nature,  have 
%t  the  same  time  recoverod,  in  a  ceitain  degree,  the 


1 


I 


76 


BT.  FRANCES  OF  HOME. 


power  which  Adam  possessed  ever  the  animal  creation. 
It  is  a  fact  of  frequent  occmrence  in  their  lives,  that 
mysterious  homage  paid  to  them  by  the  wild  inhabit- 
ants of  the  desei-t,  or  the  gentle  denizens  of  the  grave. 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  and  St.  Rose  of  I-iran,  amongst 
otliei*s,  were  singularly  endowed  with  this  gift.  Thaie 
are  few  more  touching  thoughts,  or  any  better  calcu- 
lated to  make  us  underetand  the  tnie  character  of  sanc- 
tity, and  i^ie  gi-adnol  restoration  of  a  fallen  natm*e  to 
one  akin  to  that  of  tiie  angels. 

The  other  miracle  was  one  attested  by  Vannozza,  who 
witnessed  its  occurrence.  Francesca  devoted  all  her  lei- 
sure moments  to  prayer,  but  never  allowed  her  delight 
in  spiritual  exercises  to  interfere  with  her  duty  as  a  wife. 
Her  attention  to  Lorenzo's  slightest  wants  and  wishes 
was  unceasing.  She  never  complained  of  any  amount 
of  interruption  or  of  trouble  which  his  clauns  upon  her 
time  might  occasion.  One  day  that  she  was  reciting  in 
her  room  the  office  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  he  sent  lor 
her.  Instantly  rising  from  her  knees,  she  obeyed  his 
summons.  When  she  had  performed  the  trifling  ser- 
vice he  required,  she  retiined  to  her  prayers.  Four 
successive  times,  for  the  most  insignificant  of  purposes, 
she  was  sent  for :  each  time,  with  unwearied  good  hu- 
mour, she  complied,  and  resumed  her  devotions  without 
a  shadow  of  discontent  or  annoyance.  On  resuming  her 
book  the  last  time  that  this  occuiTed,  great  was  her  as- 
tonishment in  finding  the  antiphon,  which  she  had  four 
times  begun  and  four  times  left  unfinished,  written  in 
lettere  of  gold.  Vannozza,  who  was  present,  witnessed 
the  miracle ;  and  the  archangel  whispered  to  Francesca^ 
"  Thus  the  Lord  rewards  the  virtue  of  obedience."  The 
gilded  letters  remained  in  the  book  to  the  day  of  her 
deatl\ 

Htr  prayers  were  frequent ;  her  fervour  in  pro- 
portion. Beginning  with  the  "Our  Father"  and  the 
"  Hail  Mary,"  it  was  her  practice  to  recite  them  slowly, 
and  ♦o  ponder  on  each  word  as  she  pronounced  it.  The 
Oflice  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  she  repeated  daily  at  the 


CH.  IX.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


77 


pro- 
the 

owly, 
The 

t  the 


appointed  hours,  and  almost  always  on  her  knees ;  the 
Itosary  also,  and  a  g^-eat  number  of  psalms  besides,  as 
well  as  various  devotions  for  the  holy  souls  in  pur- 
gator3\  As  to  mental  prayer,  her  whole  life  was  one 
continued  orison;  ever  in  communion  with  God,  she 
never  lost  the  sense  of  His  presence.  From  this  time 
foi-ward  (she  was  now  thirty-two  years  old),  her  li*e 
crew  more  and  more  supernatural.  The  mystical  won- 
ders that  have  r;  ^nifested  themselves  in  so  many  saints 
were  displayed  her  to  an  eminent  degree.  When 
she  approached  the  tribunal  of  penance,  but,  above  all, 
in  gpoing"  to  communion,  her  body  sometimes  emitted  a 
fragrant  odour,  and  a  halo  of  ligfht  sun-ounded  her 
head.  Often  and  often,  after  receiving  the  Bread  of 
Life,  she  fell  into  a  long-  ecstasy,  and  for  hours  re- 
mained motionless,  and  wrapt  up  in  silent  contempla- 
tion, unable  to  move  fi'om  the  spot  but  at  the  command 
of  her  director;  the  virtue  of  obedience  overcoming  even 
the  mystical  insensibility  to  all  outward  objects.  Her 
intimate  intercouree  with  heaven  dming  those  moments ; 
the  prophecies  which  she  uttered ;  the  manner  in  which 
distant  and  future  occun-ences  were  made  manifest  to 
her  spiritual  perceptions,  testified  to  the  supernatural 
nature  of  these  ecstasies.  An  intimate  union  established 
itself  between  her  and  the  objects  of  her  incessant  con- 
templation. When  she  meditated  on  the  g-lorious  mys- 
teries, on  the  triumphs  of  Mary,  or  the  bliss  of  the 
ang-elic  spirits,  an  intense  joy  beamed  in  her  face,  and 
pervaded  her  whole  pereon.  When,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  mused  on  the  Passion  of  our  Lord,  or  on  the  sor- 
rows of  His  Mother,  the  whole  expression  of  her  face 
was  changed,  and  bore  the  impress  of  an  unutterable 
woe ;  and  even  by  physical  pains  she  partook  in  a  mea- 
sure of  the  sufferings  of  her  God.  The  anxious  tor- 
ments of  the  Passion  were  rehearsed  as  it  were  in  her 
body ;  ana  ere  long  a  wound  in  her  side  manifested  one 
of  the  most  astonishing  but  indubitably  established  in- 
stances of  the  real  though  mystical  share  which  some 
of  the  saints  have  had  in  the  life-giving  agonies  of  the 


•. 


m 


I 


78 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


i 


Lord.  None  but  Vannozza,  who  used  to  dress  that 
touching  and  awful  wound,  and  Don  Antonio,  to  whom 
she  revealed  it  in  confession,  wei'e  acquainted  with  this 
extraordinary  token  of  union  between  the  crucified 
Eedeemer  and  His  favoured  servant.  She  suffered  in- 
tense pain  while  it  lasted,  but  it  was  a  joyfid  suffering*. 
Love  made  it  precious  to  her.  She  had  desired  to  drink 
of  His  cup,  and  be  baptised  with  His  baptism ;  and  He 
destined  tier  one  day  to  sit  at  His  side  and  share  His 
glory.  She  had  dnmk  to  the  dregs  the  cup  of  earthly 
sorrow ;  the  anguish  of  bereavement,  the  desolation  of 
loneliness,  the  torments  of  fear,  the  pangs  of  sickness 
and  poverty.  And  now  the  most  mystenous  sufferings 
fell  to  her  lot,  of  a  nature  too  sacred  for  common  men- 
tion, for  man's  investigation,  but  not  the  less  real  and 
true  than  the  others.  The  relief  was  as  miraculous  as 
the  infliction.  In  a  vision  she  saw  herself  transported 
into  the  cave  of  Bethlehem,  and  into  the  presence  of 
tJie  Infant  Jesus  and  of  Hi?*  Mother.  With  a  sweet 
smile,  the  Blessed  Virgin  bade  Francesca  discover  the 
wound  which  love  had  made,  and  then  with  water  that 
flowed  from  the  rock,  she  washed  her  side,  and  dis- 
missed her.  When  her  ecstasy  was  over,  she  foimd 
that  the  miraculous  wound  was  perfectly  healed. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  she  predicted  in  the  most 
positive  manner,  and  when  appearances  were  all  against 
such  a  result,  that  the  papal  schism  was  about  to  end. 
The  Council  of  Constance  was  sitting,  and  new  difficul- 
ties and  conflicts  continually  arose.  War  was  on  the 
point  of  bursting  out  again,  and  every  body  trembling 
at  the  thought  of  firesh  disasters.  Contrary,  however, 
to  all  expectations,  the  last  weeks  of  the  year  1415  saw 
the  conclusion  of  the  schism.  The  assembled  fathers, 
with  a  courage  that  none  had  foreseen,  and  indiffei'ent 
to  th  J  threats  of  Frederick  of  Austria  on  the  one  side, 
and  of  the  King  of  France  on  the  other,  who  were  each 
advocating  the  cause  of  an  anti-pope, — the  former  sup- 
]X)rting  John  XXIII.,  the  latter  Benedict  XIII., — they 
deposed  these  two  usurpers^  obliged  Gregory  XII.  ta 


CH.  IX.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  79 

renounce  hi?  pretensions  also,  ftnd  on  the  11th  of  No- 
vember unanimously  elected  Otto  Colonna,  Cardinal 
Deacon  of  St.  George  in  Velabro,  who  took  tlie  name 
of  Martin  V.;  and  by  his  virtues  and  his  talents  suc- 
ceeded in  restoring^  peace  to  Rome  itself,  and  to  the 
whole  Catholic  world.  It  was  g-enemlly  supposed,  even 
during  her  lifetime,  and  much  more  after  her  deat:i, 
that  Francesca's  pmyers,  her  teai-s  and  her  sufferings, 
bad  accelerated  that  blessed  event,  and  dmwn  down  tne 
mercy  of  God  on  His  afflicted  Cliurcli. 

The  son  of  Lorenzo  and  Francesca,  B.iptistaPonziano, 
had  now  arrived  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  was  consi- 
dered the  most  promising  of  the  young  Roman  noblemen. 
The  excellent  education  he  had  received  was  bearing 
its  fruits.  In  appeai-ance  and  in  mannere,  in  talents 
and  in  character,  he  was  emiallv  distinguished.  Lorenzo, 
anxious  to  pei'petuate  his  family,  and  secure  heirs  to  his 
large  possessions,  pressed  his  son  to  many.  It  was 
with  tlie  greatest  satisfaction  that  Fi-ancesca  seconded 
liis  wishes.  She  longed  to  give  up  to  a  daughter-ir  - 
law  the  management  of  domestic  affaii-s,  and  to  be  mc/e 
free  to  devote  her  time  to  religious  and  chaiitable  f  rn~ 
ployments.  The  young  person  on  whom  the  choiCft  of 
Baptista  and  of  his  pai'ents  fell  was  Mobilia,  a  mciden 
of  whom  it  is  recoi*ded  that  she  was  of  noble  bii*th  and 
of  singular  beauty,  but  her  family  name  is  not  men- 
tioned. Immediately  upon  her  maiTiage,  according  to 
the  continental  custom  of  the  time,  the  bride  came  to 
reside  under  the  same  i-oof  as  her  father  and  mother-in- 
law.  She  was  received  as  a  beloved  daughter  by  Fran- 
cesca  and  Vannozza ;  but  slie  neither  returaed  their  af- 
fection nor  appeared  sensible  of  tl leir  kindness.  Brought 
up  by  an  excellent  mother  in  a  very  strict  manner  and 
entire  seclusion,  her  head  wiis  completely  turned  at 
suddenly  finding  hei*self  her  own  mistress :  adored  by 
her  husband,  funiished  with  the  most  ample  means  of 
gmtifying  all  her  fancies,  she  was  bent  on  making  up 
for  the  somewhat  aiisterc  life  she  had  led  as  a  young 
prl,  and  gave  no  thought  to  any  thing  but  her  beauty^ 


80 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


i    1 


her  dress,  and  all  the  amusements  within  her  reach. 
Wholly  inexperienced,  slie  declined  to  ask  or  to  i-eceive 
advice,  and  chose  in  every  respect  to  he  g^iided  hy  her 
inclinations  alone.  Imperious  with  her  equals,  hau"flity 
with  her  superiors,  she  gave  hci-sclf  all  the  airs  ima- 
ginable, and  treated  her  mother-in-law  with  the  most 
supreme  contempt,  hardly  paying*  her  moi-e  attention 
than  if  she  had  been  the  lowest  menial  in  the  house. 
In  the  gay  societies  which  she  frequented,  it  was  her 
favourite  amusement  to  turn  Francesca  into  ridicule,  to 
mimic  her  manners  and  her  style  of  convereation ;  and 
she  often  declared  hereelf  perfectly  ashamed  of  being 
related  to  a  person  so  totally  ignoi-ant  of  the  ways  of 
the  world.  "  How  can  one  feel  any  respect,"  she  used 
to  ask,  "  for  a  person  who  thinks  of  nothing  but  the 
poor,  dresses  as  one  of  them,  and  goes  about  the  streets 
canying  bread,  wood,  and  old  clothes  ?"  It  was  not 
that  Mobilia's  disposition  was  absolutely  bad ;  on  the 
contrary,  she  was  naturally  sweet-tempered ;  but  never 
having  been  left  before  to  her  own  management,  and 
tasting  for  the  first  time  the  exciting  pleasures  of  the 
world,  the  contrast  which  her  mother-in-law's  appear- 
ance, manners,  and  whole  mode  of  life  presented  to  that 
which  seemed  to  her  so  attractive,  imitated  her  beyond 
measure,  till  at  last  her  dislike  amounted  to  aversion; 
she  could  hardly  endure  Francesca  in  her  sight.  Vain 
were  the  remonstrances  of  her  husband  and  of  her 
father-in-law,  vain  their  entreaties  and  their  reproofs; 
unavailing  also  proved  the  interference  of  some  mutual 
friends,  who  sought  to  comince  her  of  the  culpability  of 
her  conduct,  and  to  persunde  her  that  she  was  bound  to 
show  Baptista's  mother  p.t  least  the  attentions  of  ordi- 
nary civility.  The  headstrong  yoimg  woman  persisted 
in  exhibiting  the  utmost  contempt  for  her.  The  Saint 
endured  all  her  frowardness  with  unvarying  ""entleness 
and  patience,  never  uttering  a  sharp  or  unkind  word  in 
return,  and  spending  long  hours  in  prayer  that  the  heart 
so  closed  against  her,  and  so  given  up  to  the  world,  might 
through  God's  mercy  ue  sort«ned  and  changed. 


en.  IX.] 


»T.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


81 


li8:ht 


One  dfty,  wlien  she  was  renewin*:^  these  petitions  with 
more  than  common  fervoiu',  she  heard  the  following" 
words  distinctly  pronounced  in  her  hearing* :  "  Wljy 
do  ycvL  jp'ieve,  Fi-ancesca  {  and  why  is  your  soul  dis- 
quieted i*  Nothing"  takes  place  without  My  permission, 
and  all  things  work  tog-ether  for  the  g-ood  ot  those  who 
love  Me."  And  her  trial  was  even  tlien  about  to  end. 
It  happened  a  few  days  aftei-wards,  when  all  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  palace  were  assembled  round  the  fire  in 
the  hall  (for  it  was  in  the  winter  season),  that  Mobilia 
beg^n  as  usual  to  attack  her  mother-in-law,  and  to  turn 
her  mode  of  life  into  ridicule,  with  even  greater  bitter- 
ness than  usual ;  and  tui-ning"  to  her  husband  and  to  his" 
father,  she  exclaimed  impatientiy  that  she  could  not 
indci-stand  how  they  allowed  her  to  follow  her  mean 
and  degrading"  pui*suits,  to  mix  with  the  refuse  of  the 
rabble,  and  di-aw  down  upon  the  wliole  family  not  only, 
merited  disg-race,  but  intolerable  inconveniences.  She 
was  g"oing"  on  in  this  way,  and  speaking"  with  great 
violence,  w^hen  all  of  a  sudden  she  turned  as  pale  as 
death,  a  fit  of  trembling'  came  over  her,  and  in  a 
moment  she  fell  back  senseless.  Fmncesca  and  Van- 
nozza  canied  her  to  her  bed,  where,  recovering  her 
consciousness,  she  was  seized  with  most  acute  pains. 
The  intensity  of  her  suifering-s  drew  from  her  the  most 
piteous  cries.  Then  her  conscience  was  roused  ;  then, 
as  if  suddenly  awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  enoi-mity  of 
her  conduct,  with  a  faltering"  voice  slie  munnured : 
"  My  pride !  my  dreadfid  pride ! "  Francesca  bent 
over  her  g-ently,  entreated  her  to  bear  her  suffering's 
patiently,  assm-ed  her  they  would  soon  subside.  Then 
Mobilia  burst  into  aa  ag;ony  of  teal's,  and  exclaimed 
before  all  the  bystandei-s,  "  They  will  subside,  my  dear 
mother,  if  you  ask  it  of  God ;  but  I  have  desei-ved 
more,  much  more,  by  my  honible  behaviour  to  you. 
Forgive  me,  dear  moth<  r;  pray  for  me.  I  acknowledg-e 
my  fault.  Hencefoi-ward,  if  God  spares  my  life,  yonr 
daughter  will  be  to  you  the  most  loving",  the  most  obe- 


dient of  liandmaids. 


Take  me 

a 


in  your  arms,  mother, 


i 

I- 


f 


n 


92 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROME. 


Rnd  bless  yoni*  child."    Fmncesca  jiressed  to  her  hosom 
the  benntitul  yo«n{^  creature  in  wiioni  such  n  clmnjj^e 
had  bej?!!  suddenly  wron«»ht,  and  wliile  she  fervently 
blessed  her,  Mobilia  felt  timt  all  her  pains  had  left  her. 
From  tliat  day  forward  the  whole  tone  of  lier  mind 
was  altered ;  her  convei-sion  was  complete.     Francesca 
became  to  her  an  object  of  the  most  affectionate  vene- 
ration; she  consultwl  her  al)out  all  her  actions,  and 
communicated  to  her  her  most  secret  thouf^hts.    Utterly 
despisini*;  the  vanities  of  the  world  which  had  led  hei* 
astray,  she  adopted   her  views  and  opinions,  and  set 
entii-ely  at  nauppht  tiie  seductions  of  worldly  grandeur. 
The  sanctity  of  Fi-ancesca  was  now  so  evident  to  her 
thf»*i,  she  be«»;an  to  watch  her  actions,  her  words,  every 
detail  of  her  life,  with  a  mixture  of  awe  and  of  interest, 
and  kept  a  record  in  writing*  of  all  that  she  observed, 
and  of  the  miraculous  occinrences  which  wei*e  so  often 
taking"  place  through  her  instnimentality,  as  well  as  in 
her  own  pei*son.     The  forementioned  particulai-s  she 
attested  upon  oath  after  the  Saint's  death,  when  the 
depositions  were  taken  which  served  at  a  later  period 
for  the  process  of  her  canonisation.     Tiie  most  intimate 
li'iendship  esta))lishwl  itself  between  Baptista's  wife  and 
liis  mother;  nothing  couhl  exceed  the  devoted  and  af- 
fectionate reverence  of  the  one,  or  the  tendemess  with 
which  it  was  it'paid  by  the  other.     Francesca,  witii 
the  most  watchful  love,  attended  to  Mobilia's  slig^htest 
wants  or  wishes ;  nui-sed  her  assiduously  in  her  confine- 
ments, and  Ijestowed  upon  her  grandchildren  the  same 
cares  that  she  had  lavished  on  her  own  children.     It 
was  a  gi-ent  ralief  to  her  that  Mobilia,  who  was  now 
only  occuj)ied  with  h(»r  duti(»s,  assumed  at  her  request 
the  managem<»nt  of  the  house,  and  the  regulation  of  all 
domesitic  afluirs.     She  was  thus  enabled  to  devote  her- 
self more  u n reiser v«'(  11  y  to  the  S(?rvice  of  the  ]>oor  and 
of  tiie  hosj)itals.     Tiaj  hos|)ital  which  she  visited  most 
constantly  was  that  which  her  father-in-law  had  founded 
ni-ar  the  Chiesa  del  Salvatora,  called  at  a  later  jieriod 
Santa  Mt\ria  in  Capjieihi.  The  miracles  wroug;ht  oy  the 


CH.  IX.] 


ST.  PRANCES  OF  ROME. 


83 


nil 

er- 

nd 

est 

led 

iod 

the 


laying  on  of  her  hands  became  more  numerons  than 
ever,  and  her  fame  increased  in  proijortion.  The  dej^-ee 
in  which  her  assistance  was  soug-ht,  her  praytM-s  im- 
plored, and  the  reputation  of  her  sanctity  extended, 
was  painful  to  her  humility;  but  lier  superpituml  ufifts 
were  too  evident  to  be  concealed  fi*om  otliei-s  or  from 
herself,  and  thei*e  only  remained  to  her  to  humble  her- 
nelf  more  deeply  at  the  feet  of  the  God  who  thus  showed 
foi-th  His  power  in  one  whom  she  deemed  the  most 
worthless  of  His  creatures. 

A  ^-eat  work  was  preparinj^  for  her  hand  to  do ; 
the  fii-st  stone  of  a  spiritual  building'  was  to  be  laid ; 
she  was  growing  ripe  for  the  work ;  and  God  was 
drawing  men's  eyes  upon  her  with  wonder  and  with 
awe,  that  when  that  day  came  they  might  listen  to  her 
voice.  The  waraings  which  she  gave  to  pei-sons  threat- 
ened by  seci-et  dangei-s  were  innumenible ;  her  insight 
into  the  condition  of  their  souls  marvellous.  One  day 
she  sends  word  to  her  confessor  that  he  will  be  "  sent 
for  on  the  fol, owing  night  to  attend  a  sick  pereon,  but 
that  he  must  on  no  account  leave  his  house  ;'*  and  it 
tui-ns  out  that  assassins  were  lying  in  wait  for  him  in 
the  sti-eet,  and  that  tlij  pretended  sick  man  was  a  lure 
to  draw  him  out.  Another  time  a  youth  of  sixteen, 
Jacopo  Vincenzo,  is  lying  dangerously  ill  in  the  Piazza 
Campitelli.  His  mother  hastens  to  the  Saint,  who 
smiles  when  she  enters  the  i-oom,  and  bids  her  go  in 
peace,  for  her  son  has  recovered ;  and  on  her  return  she 
finds  him  in  perfect  health.  She  sees  a  priest  at  the 
altar,  and  he  appears  to  her  sij^ht  as  if  covered  with  a 
frightful  leprosy.  By  her  confessor's  order  she  relates 
her  visior  to  the  object  of  it;  and,  confounded  and 
amazed,  the  unhappy  man  acknowledsres  that  he  was 
celebi-atino"  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin.  •  He  repent*?,  con- 
fesses, and  amends  his  life.  Two  men  pay  a  visit  to- 
gether to  the  Ponziano  Palace ;  one  is  the  nephew  of 
Vannozza,  a  pious  and  exemplary  priest ;  the  other  a 
young  man  of  twenty,  whom  he  has  adopted.  Anger 
IS  working  in  the  bosom  of  the  youth ;  he  has  suffered 


i 


.  \ 


84 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


fi-om  his  benefactor  some  imaginary  wrong*,  and  he  ia 
planning^  his  revenge,  and  is  about  to  utter  a  calumny 
which  will  affect  liis  chai-acter.  Francesca  takes  him 
aside :  what  can  slie  know  of  what  is  passing*  in  liis  soul ; 
how  I'ead  what  has  not  been  revealed  to  any  human 
ci-eature  ?  She  tells  him  what  he  designs,  and  awakens 
lim  to  a  sense  of  his  ing^ratitude.  He  no  sooner  lias 
lefb  the  house  than,  fallmg-  at  the  feet  of  his  companion, 
he  confesses  to  him  his  crime,  and  implores  his  iorgive- 
ness.  Cecca  Clai'elli,  a  relation  of  t^ie  Ponziani,  is  de- 
livered of  a  little  gu'l  in  such  apparent  good  health  that 
no  one  thinks  of  baptising*  her ;  a  grand  cei'emony  for 
the  purpose  is  prepai-ing  m  a  neighboming  chm-ch,  to 
take  p^ioe  the  following  day;  but  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  l.rancesca  arrives,  and  entreats  that  the  child  may 
be  instantly  baptised.  The  parents  and  the  priest  ol> 
ject,  but  the  Saint  is  urgent ;  she  will  take  no  denia^  t 
with  reluctance  her  request  is  complied  with,  and  no 
sooner  has  the  sacrament  been  confeiTed  than  the  infant 
expires.  A  child  of  the  same  parents,  a  lovely  little 
girl,  is  dumb ;  she  is  four  yeai's  old,  and  not  a  single 
word  has  she  ever  pronounced.  Andreozzo,  her  father, 
entreats  his  wife  to  carry  her  to  the  Saint,  and  implore 
lier  assistance.  Francesca's  humility  cannot  endure  this 
direct  appeal,  and  she  tries  to  put  them  off  j  but,  deeply 
affected  oy  their  teara,  she  at  last  touches  with  uer 
finger  the  tongue  ofthe  little  Camilla,  and  says,  "  Hope 
every  thing  from  the  mercy  of  God ;  it  is  as  boundless 
as  His  power."  The  parents  depart  full  of  faith  and 
comfort;  and  ere  they  reach  their  house,  the  child  has 
uttered  with  pei-fect  distinctness  the  blessed  names  of 
Jesus  and  Mary;  and  from  that  day  forward  acquires 
and  retains  the  power  of  speech. 

No  wonder  that  the  name  of  Francesca  grows  every 
day  more  famous,  and  that  she  is  every  day  more  dear 
to  the  people  amongst  Avhom  she  dwells;  that  hearts 
are  subdued,  sinnei-s  reclaimed,  mourners  consoled  by 
the  sight  of  her  blessed  face,  by  the  sweet  soimd  of  her 
voice.    Many  rise  about  her  and  call  her  blessed ;  but 


CH.  X.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


85 


childi'en,  and  more  especially  her  own  spiritual  chil- 
dren^  are  soon  to  cull  her  mother.  A  new  epoch  is  now 
at  hand  in  her  career.  God  had  placed  in  her  heart 
many  yeare  ag;o  a  hope  which  she  had  nureed  in  se- 
cret, and  watered  with  her  teai-s,  and  fostered  by  her 
prayere.    Never  imj)atient,  never  beforehand  witli  Ciod's 

Erovidence,  she  waited  :  II  is  time  was  she  knew  to  bo 
er  time ;  His  will  was  the  passion  of  her  heart,  her 
end,  her  i-ule,  and  God  had  made  her  will  His,  and 
brought  about  by  slow  degrees  its  accomplishment. 
Permission  to  laboui*  first,— the  result  far  distant,  but 
clear,  the  vision  of  that  result,  when  once  He  had  said 
to  her,  "  Beo-in  and  work."  To  tarry  patiently  for  that 
signal,  to  obey  it  unhesitatingly  wher.  once  given,  is 
the  i-ule  of  the  saints.  How  mai-vellous  is  tiieir  in- 
stinct !  how  accordtmt  their  pmctice !  Fii-st,  tlie  hid- 
den life,  the  common  life ;  the  silence  of  the  house  of 
Nazai'eth  j  the  carpenter's  shop  ;•  tlie  maniage-feast,  it 
may  be,  for  some ;  and  at  last,  "  the  hour  is  come," 
and.  the  tioie  work  for  which  they  are  sent  into  the 
world  has  to  be  done,  in  tlie  desert  or  in  the  cloister, 
in  the  temple  or  in  the  market-place,  on  Mount  Tha- 
bor  or  on  Mount  Calvary ;  and  the  martyr  or  the  con- 
fessor, the  founder  or  the  reformer  of  a  religious  order, 
comes  forth,  and  in  an  instant,  or  in  a  few  yeai-s,  per- 
forms a  work  at  which  eaith  wondei-s  and  angels  re- 
joice. 


CHAPTER  X. 


rRANCESCA  LAYS  THE  FOUNDATION  OP  HER  FUTURE  CONOREOATIOlf 
— HER  PILGIIIHAQE  TO  ASSISI. 

Lorenzo  Poxziano's  admiration  and  affection  for  his 
wife  had  gone  on  increasinj*"  with  advancing  years ;  the 
perfection  of  her  life,  and  the  miracles  he  Imd  so  often 
seen  her  j»erform,  inspired  him  with  an  unbounded  re 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


verence.  His  continual  prayer,  the  ardent  desire  of  lu's 
Jieart,  was  to  ha  ire  hor  by  his  side  as  his  guide  and  his 
guardian  angel  during  the  remainder  of  his  life  and  at 
the  hour  of  his  death.  Perhaps  it  was  to  win,  as  it 
were,  fi"om  Pi-ovidence  the  favour  he  so  earnestly  im- 
plored, that  he  resolved  in  no  way  to  be  a  clog  on  her 
actions,  or  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  God's  designs  upon 
her.  Taking  her  aside  one  daj",  he  spoke  to  her  with 
the  greatest  affection,  and  offei'ed  to  release  her  fi-om 
all  the  obligations  imposed  by  the  state  of  marriage,  to 
allow  her  tlie  fullest  liberty  of  action  and  the  most  ab- 
solute control  over  her  own  pereon,  her  own  time,  and 
her  own  conduct,  on  one  only  condition, — that  she  would 
promise  never  to  cease  to  inhabit  his  liouse,  and  to  guide 
him  in  tlie  way  in  which  her  example  had  hitherto  led 
him.  Francesca,  profoundly  touched  by  his  kindness, 
did  not  hesitate  to  givd  this  promise.  She  accepted  his 
proposal  joyfully  and  gl-ateftiUy,  in  so  much  as  it  con- 
duced to  the  accomplishment  of  God's  will  and  of  His 
ulterior  designs  upon  her ;  but  she  continued  to  devote 
herself  to  her  excellent  husband,  and  with  the  most 
attentive  solicitude  to  render  him  every  service  in  her 
power.  He  was  now  in  very  declining  health,  and  she 
rendered  him  by  day  and  by  night  all  the  cai-es  of  the 
tcnderest  nurse.  The  religious  life,  the  natural  com- 
plement of  such  a  course  as  hers  had  been,  often  foi.  uA 
the  subject  of  her  meditations;  and  God,  who  destine.! 
her  to  DC  the  foundress  of  a  new  congregation  of  pious 
women,  suggested  to  her  at  this  time  the  first  steps  to- 
wards its  accomplishment. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  fi-om  her  childhood  up- 
ward she  had  been  used  to  fi*equent  the  church  of  Santa 
Iilaria  Nuova,  on  the  Foro  Romano ;  her  mother  had 
done  so  before  her,  and  had  inti-usted  her  to  the  spi- 
ritual direction  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  memboi-s  of 
the  order  by  whom  that  cliurch  was  sei"ved.  Santa 
Maria  Nuova  is  one  of  the  oldest  ehui-ches  in  Rome. 
It  had  been  destroyed  and  i-ebuilt  in  the  ein;^lith  centurv; 
fund  in  1352  had  been  given  uj)  to  the  Olivetan  moulm 


en.  X.] 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMW. 


87 


of  St.  Benedict.  As  the  con^gration  which  Francesca 
instituted  was  orig'inally  foniied  on  the  model,  and  ag*- 
gregated  to  that  of  the  relitrious  of  Mount  Olivet,  it 
will  not  be  irrelevant  to  g-ive  some  account  of  their 
^igin  and  the  life  of  their  illustrious  founder. 

Bernard  Ptolomei  or  Tolomei,  who  was  supposed  to 
De  descended  from  the  Ptolemies  of  Eg-ypt,  was  born 
in  1272.  Disting^iished  by  his  precocious  abilities,  he 
became,  at  the  eai-ly  ag^e  of  twenty-two,  cliief-magfis- 
trate  (ffonfalonicre)  of  his  native  town,  Sienna ;  and  at 
twenty-five  attained  to  the  dignity  of  dog^e.  Soon  after 
he  was  suddenly  struck  with  blindness,  and  the  material 
darkness  in  which  he  found  himself  involved  opened  his 
mental  sight  to  the  light  of  religious  truth.  He  turned 
with  his  whole  heai-t  to  God,  and  irrevocably  devoted 
himself  to  His  service  and  to  a  life  of  austerity  and 
meditation.  The  Blessed  Virgin  miraciUously  restoi'ed 
his  sight,  and  his  purpose  stood  firm.  Dividing  his 
fortune  into  two  equal  pai-ts,  he  bestowed  one  half  on 
the  poor,  and  the  other  to  the  foundation  of  pious  insti- 
tutions. With  a  few  companions  he  i-etired  into  the 
mountainous  deserts  of  Accona,  about  fifteen  miles  from 
Sienna,  where  they  gave  themselves  u]>  to  a  life  of  as- 
ceticism and  prayer,  which  attracted  to  their  solitude 
many  devout  souls  from  various  pai'ts  of  the  world. 
Satan,  as  usual,  set  his  batteries  in  array  against  the 
new  anchorites,  and  trials  of  various  soi-ts  assailed  them 
in  turn.  They  were  even  denounced  to  Pope  John 
XXII.  as  persons  tainted  with  heresy;  but  Tolomei, 
with  Piccolomini,  one  of  his  companions,  made  their 
way  to  Avignon,  and  there,  in  the  presence  of  the 
sovereign  Pontiff,  completely  cleared  themselves  from 
the  calumnious  imputation.  Their  order  was  approved, 
and  they  returaed  to  Accona,  where  they  took  the  name 
•of  "  Congi'egation  of  Mary  of  Mount  Olivet  of  the  Bene- 
dictine Order."  This  was  by  the  express  desire  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  who  had  appeared  to  the  saint,  and  en- 
joined him  to  adopt  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  promising 
at  the  same  time  uer  protection  to  the  new  order.    On 


m 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


tlie  26th  of  March,  1319,  the  new  religious  received 
their  hahits;  and  Mount  Accona  took  the  name  of 
Mount  OUvet,  in  houour  of  the  agony  of  our  Lord. 
TeiTilile  were  the  conflicts  of  the  holy  founder  with 
the  Evil  One;  but  out  of  them  all  he  came  victorious. 
His  expositions  of  Scripture  were  wondei-iul,  and  derived, 
it  was  said,  from  his  mystical  colloquies  with  the  arch- 
angel St.  Michael.  The  austerity  of  his  life  was  ex- 
treme; his  penances  severe  and  continual.  In  1348 
St.  Benedict  appeared  to  him  and  announced  the  a])- 
proach  of  the  pestilence  which  was  soon  to  visit  Italy, 
and  warned  him  of  his  own  death,  which  speedily  fol- 
lowed. Many  of  his  disciples  had  visions  of  the  glori- 
ous translation  of  his  soul  to  heaven ;  and  numerous 
miracles  wrought  at  his  tomb  bore  witness  to  his  sanc- 
tity. His  monks  inhabited  the  church  and  the  cloistera 
of  Santa  Maria  in  Dominica,  or,  as  it  is  more  commonly 
called^  in  Navicella,  fi'om  the  nidely-sculptui*ed  marble 
monimient  that  stands  on  the  grass  befoi-e  its  portal,  a 
remnant  of  bygone  days,  to  which  neither  histoi-y  nor 
tradition  has  given  a  name,  but  which  has  itself  given 
one  to  the  picturesque  old  church  that  stands  on  the 
brow  of  the  Coehan  Hill.  As  their  numbei*s  afterwards 
increased,  they  were  put  to  great  inconvenience  by  the 
naiTow  limits  of  theu*  abode ;  and  Cai-diual  Belforte, 
titular  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  obtained  for  them  from 
Pope  Clement  VI.  possession  of  the  church  of  that 
name.  They  accepted  the  gift  with  joy;  for  not  only 
did  it  owe  its  origin  to  the  first  ages  of  Christianicy,  but 
it  contained  many  vnluable  relics;  and  amongst  other 
treasures  one  of  those  pictures  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
which  tradition  has  ascrioed  to  St.  Luke  the  Evahgelist; 
to  this  day  it  is  venerated  in  that  spot;  and  those  who 
kiAeel  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Francesca  liomana,  on  raising 
their  eyes  to  the  altar  above  it  behold  the  sacred  image 
which  has  been  venerated  for  so  many  genemtions. 

Through  prosperity  and  adversity  Francesca  had 
never  ceased  to  frequent  that  church.  At  its  confes- 
sional and  at  its  altars  she  had  been  a  constant  n^Umd 


CH.  X.] 


BT.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


89 


ant.  Other  women,  Iier  fi'iends  and  imitators,  had  fol- 
lowed her  example ;  bound  by  a  tender  ft-iendship,  bent 
on  the  same  objects,,  united  by  the  same  love  of  Jesus  and 
of  Mary,  often  and  often  tliey  had  been  there  topretlier, 
those  noble  women  who  had  resolved  to  g'lorv  iu  nothiniif 
but  the  Cross,  to  have  no  rank  but  that  of  handmaiils 
in  the  house  of  the  Lord.  Francesca  was  their  model, 
their  teacher,  their  cherished  ^ide :  thoy  clung*  to  hei 
with  the  tenderest  affcotion;  they  were,  according"  to 
an  Eastern  poet's  expre '^ion,*  a  row  of  goodly  pearls, 
and  she  the  silken  cord  which  bound  them  together. 
They  were  coming*  out  of  the  church  one  evening,  when 
Francesca  gava  tlicni  the  firet  intimation  of  her  hopes 
of  their  ftiture  destiny.  They  were  not  shown  the 
distant  scene,  only  the  first  step  they  were  to  take.f 
It  was  one  of  those  small  beginnings  so  trifling  in 
men's  sight,  so  important  in  their  results, — the  grain 
of  muswii  d-seed  hei-eafter  to  grow  into  a  tree.  Fran- 
cesca spoke  to  them,  as  they  walked  along,  of  tlie 
order  or  St.  Benedict,  of  the  sanctity  of  its  founder,  of 
the  virtues,  the  piety,  the  good  works  of  its  membere, 
and  submitted  to  them  that  by  taking  the  name  of 
"  Oblates  of  Mount  Olivet,"  and  observin"*  conjointly 
certain  rules,  such  as  might  befit  persons  living  in  the 
world,  they  might  participate  in  their  merits,  and  enjoy 
their  privileges.  Her  companions  hailed  tliis  proposal 
with  joy,  and  begged  her  to  use  all  her  efforts  to  cairy 
it  into  effect.  Don  Antonio,  to  whom  Francesca  com- 
municated their  pious  wishes,  lent  a  favourable  eai*  to 
the  request,  ard  in  his  turn  brought  it  under  the  notice 
of  the  Vice-Prior  Don  Ippolito,  who,  in  the  absence  of 
the  superior,  was  charged  with  the  government  of  the 
monastery.  He  was  the  same  who  at  one  time  formed 
the  project  of  leaving  the  oi'der,  and  was  deterred  from 

•  "  They  a  row  of  pearls,  and  I 

The  silken  cord  on  which  they  lie.*' 

f  "  Lead  thou  mc  on;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 

The  distant  scene :  one  step  enough  for  me.'* 

Newman's  Ver$ea  <m  Religious  SubjteU 


90 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


» 


80  doing  by  Francesca's  advice.  He  readily  received  their 
oveftures,  and  obtained  for  lier  and  for  her  companions 
fi-om  the  General  of  the  Order  pennission  to  assume  the 
name  of  "Oblates  of  Mary,"  a  pai-ticular  aggregation  to 
the  monastery  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  and  a  share  in  the 
fiuffi-ag-es  and.  merits  of  the  ord'^r  of  St.  Benedict. 

Greatly  rejoiced  at  the  happy  result  of  their  appli- 
cation, they  gave  themselves  to  fosting,  prayer,  and 
penance,  in  preparation  for  their  special  consecration  to 
the  Blessed  Vir«in.  Jt  took  place  on  the  Feast  of  the 
Assumption  of  the  year  1425. 

At  break  of  day,  in  the  church  of  Santa  Mana 
Nuova,  Francesca,  Vannozza,  Rita  de  Celli,  Agnese  Selli, 
and  six  more  noble  Roman  ladies,  confessed,  received 
the  pious  instructions  of  Don  Antonio,  and  commuui- 
catea  at  a  Mass  which  Don  Jppolito  said  before  the 
miraculous  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  Immediately 
after  the  holy  sacrifice,  they  dedicated  themselves  to  her 
service,  according  to  the  formula  used  by  the  Olivetan 
monks ;  only  that  tlie  phi*ase  "  me  offero"  was  substi- 
tuted for  "  profiteor;"  and  tliat  instead  of  taking  solemn 
vows,  they  were  simply  affiliated  to  the  Benedictine 
Order  of  Mount  Olivet.  Sue  i  was  the  fii-st  beginning 
of  the  cocgregation  of  which  .".^rancesca  was  the  mother 
and  foundi-ess.  In  these  eaily  times,  Don  Antonio, 
their  director,  did  not  assign  them  any  s{)ecial  occvi- 
pation,  and  only  urged  ther  i  to  the  most  scrapulous 
obedience  to  the  commandn  ents  of  God  and  of  the 
Church,  to  a  tender  devotion  to  the  Mother  of  God,  a 
diligent  participation  in  the  Sacmments,  and  the  exei-cise 
of  all  the  Christian  virtues,  and  the  various  works  of 
mercy.  The  link  between  them  consisted  in  their  con- 
stant attendance  at  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova, 
where  they  received  communion  on  all  the  Feasts  of 
our  Lady,  and  in  a  tender  veneration  for  Francesca, 
whom  they  looked  upon  as  tlieir  sjnritual  mother.  They 
had  incessant  recoui-se  to  her  advice ;  and  her  simplest 
words  were  as  a  law  to  them,  her  conduct  their  example. 
She  assumed  no  power,  and  disclaimed  all  authority; 


L 


CH.  X.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


91 


but  the  sorereign  empire  of  love  was  forced  into  hei 
reluctant  hands.  ^  mj  insisted  on  being  governed  by 
one  they  held  in  such  affection,  and  gtive  up  every  plea- 
sure for  the  sake  of  being  with  her,  and  sharing  in  hei 
pursuits. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  the  following  year  that 
Francesca  decided  on  performing  a  pilgrimage  to  Santa 
Maria,  or,  as  it  is  more  commonly  called  "  La  Madonna 
degli  Angeli,"  in  honour  of  our  Lady  and  of  the  se- 
raphic Saint  of  Assisi.  Vannozza  and  Rita  eagerly 
agreed  to  accompany  her ;  and  they  resolved  to  set  oft 
en  the  2d  of  August,  in  order  to  anive  in  time  for  the 
celebrated  indulgence  "  del  Pei-dono."  It  was  in  poverty, 
not  only  of  spirit  but  of  actual  reality  that  they  wished 
to  perform  their  journey  to  the  tomb  of  the  great  apostle 
of  poverty, — to  go  on  foot,  and  unprovided  with  money, 

1>rovision8,  or  comforts  of  any  sort.  Lorenzo  and  Pa- 
uzza,  who  had  readily  consented  to  the  proposed  pil- 
grimage, demurred  for  a  while  at  this  mode  of  carrying 
it  out  J  but  Francesca  prayed  in  her  oratory  that^Gfod 
would  incline  their  heaois  to  consent  to  it;  and  soon, 
with  a  reluctant  smile,  they  consented  to  all  she  pro- 
])osed,  and  both  only  ejaculated,  "  Go  on  your  way  in 
peace ;  do  as  you  list,  and  only  pray  for  us."  Out  of 
the  gates  of  Rome  they  went,  through  that  counti-y  so 
well  known  to  those  who  have  often  visited  the  Eternal 
City;  up  the  hill  from  whence  the  first  sight  of  its  don>es 
and  its  towers,  of  its  tombs  and  of  its  piues,  is  haiied 
with  rapture,  from  whence  a  long  last  lin<;ering  look  of 
love  is  cast  upon  what  the  heart  whispers  is  it^  o^/n 
Catholic  ^ome.  It  was  the  first,  and  as  it  would  steem 
the  only  occasion  (at  least  none  other  is  mentioned  in 
her  life)  in  which  Francesca  left  its  walls,  and  trod  other 
gi'ound  than  that  which  the  steps  of  so  many  martyrs 
have  hallowed,  the  blood  of  so  many  saints  has  conse- 
ci-ated.  The  valleys  of  Veii  on  the  one  hand,  tne  heiglits 
of  Baecano  on  the  other,  the  beautiful  and  stately  moun- 
tain of  Soracte,  met  their  eyes  as  they  do  ours :  would 
that  we  looked  upon  them  with  the  same  ear»h-abstractod 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROMS. 

Cas  tlieira !  The  Gothic  towers  of  Civiti\  Castellana 
3(1  down  upon  the  humble  pilgrims  as  they  passed 
by  in  pious  meditation.  The  sound  of  their  sweet  voices, 
reciting  prayers  or  chanting  hymns,  mingled  with  the 
murmura  ot  tlie  stream  that  bathes  the  old  -walls  of 
Nurni;  and  then  tlu-ough  the  wild  defile  of  Monte 
Somma  into  the  lovely  Umbrian  Vale  they  went,  through 
that  enchantir'  •  land  where  eveiy  tree  and  rock  weai-s 
the  form  that  Claude  Loiraine  or  Salvator  Rosa  have 
made  familiar  to  the  eye  and  dear  to  the  poetic  mind ; 
where  the  vines  hang  in  graceful  gju-lands,  and  the  fire- 
flies at  night  dance  from  bough  to  bough ;  where  the 
brooks  and  the  rivers  are  of  the  colour  of  the  sapphire 
or  the  emerald,  and  the  purple  mountains  smile  rather 
than  frown  on  the  sunny  landscape;  where  the  towns 
and  the  convents,  the  churches  and  the  cottages,  are 
set  like  white  gems  in  tlie  deep  verdure  that  suiTounds 
them.  There  is  no  land  more  lah*,  no  sky  more  tenderly 
blue,  no  breeze  more  balmy,  than  the  land  where  Spoleto 
and  Toligno  and  Assisi  rise  in  their  picturesque  beauty, 
than  the  sky  which  spreads  its  azure  roof  over  the  Um- 
brian traveller's  heaa,  than  the  airs  wh'''h  are  wafted 
fi'om  the  heights  of  Monte  Falco,  or  the  hill  of  Peru- 
gia. Beautiful  is  that  country!  fair  these  works  of 
God ! — but  more  beautiful  still  is  the  invisible  world 
which  Francesca  and  her  companions  contemplated,  the 
while,  with  weary  patient  feet,  in  the  sultry  August 
weather,  they  trod  the  lengthening  road  fi-om  one  humble 
resting-place  to  another.  Fairer  the  inward  perfection 
of  a  soul  which  God  has  renewed,  than  all  the  gorgeous 
but  evanescent  loveliness  of  earth's  most  lovely  scenes. 
At  length  their  pilgrimage  is  drawing  to  a  close ; 
the  towel's  of  the  Madonna  degli  Angeli  are  conspicuous 
in  the  distance ;  half  unconsciously  they  hasten  in  ap- 
proaching it;  but  the  heat  is  intense,  and  their  lips 
parclied  witli  thii-st ;  they  can  hardly  speak,  for  their 
t(mgues  cleave  to  the  roof  of  tlieir  mouths,  when  a 
stranger  meets  them,  one  of  striking  and  venerable  ap 
pearance,  and  clothed  m  the  religious  habit  of  St.  Francis. 


CH.  X.]  ST.  FRANCEd  OF  ROME  03 

He  hails  the  travellers,  and  straightway  speaks  of  Mai-y 
and  of  Jesus,  of  the  mystery  of  the  Passion,  of  the  won- 
ders of  Divine  love.  Never  have  such  woi-ds  of  fire 
met  the  eara  of  the  astonished  pilgrims.  Tlieir  hearts 
bum  within  them,  and  they  are  ready  to  exclaim,  "  Never 
did  man  speak  like  to  this  man."  Francesca  sees  her  an- 
ffel  assume  his  brig;htest  aspect.  Rays  of  lig^ht  seem  to 
dart  from  his  form,  and  to  envelope  in  a  dazzling*  halo  the 
monk  who  is  addressing"  them.  She  knows  him  now ; 
and  makes  a  sig^i  to  her  .companions.  It  is  St.  Francis 
himself.  It  is  tlie  sei-aphic  saint  of  Assisi.  He  blesses 
the  little  troop,  and  touching*  a  wild  pear-tree  by  the 
road-side,  he  brings  down  to  the  ground  a  fruit  ot  such 
prodigious  size,  that  it  serves  to  allay  tiie  tliii-st  and  re- 
store the  strength  of  the  exhausted  tmvellers. 

That  day  tliey  reached  tlie  sln-ine  where  they  had 
80  longed  to  kneel ;  tliat  little  hut,  once  tiie  abode  of 
the  saint,  which  stands  in  its  rough  simplicity  within 
the  c'orgeous  church ;  where  the  rich  and  great  of  the 
world  come  dally  to  do  homage  to  the  apostle  of  poverty, 
the  close  imitator  of  Him  who  had  not  often  wliere  to 
lay  His  head.  There  they  received  communion  t'le 
next  morning";  there  they  prayed  for  their  absent 
friends ;  there  Francesca  had  a  vision,  in  which  she 
was  encourag"ed  to  pereevere  in  her  labours,  to  accom- 

flish  her  pious  design,  and  the  protection  of  Jesus  and 
lis  Mother  was  promised  to  her.  Let  us  follow  them 
in  thouffht  up  the  steep  hill  to  Assisi — to  the  church 
where  tne  relics  of  the  saint,  where  his  mortal  remains 
are  laid.  Let  us  descend  into  the  subten-anean  chapel, 
pause  at  every  altar,  and  muse  on  the  recoi-ds  of  that 
astonishing  life,  the  most  marvellous  perhaps  of  any 
wliich  it  has  evel*  been  pennitted  to  mortal  man  to  live. 
Let  us  go  with  them  to  the  home  of  his  youth,  where 
his  confessorship  began  in  childish  sufferings  for  the 
sake  of  Christ.  Let  us  venerate  with  them  the  relics  of 
St.  Clare,  the  gentle  sister  spirit  whose  memory  and 
wliose  order  ai-e  linker  with  his;  and  for  a  moment 
think  what  pi  ayere,  what  vows,  what  acts  of  faith,  of 


H 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMS. 


hope,  of  charity,  must  have  risen  Hke  incense  from  thost 
devoted  heaits  in  such  scenes,  amidst  such  recollections. 
Doubtless  they  bore  away  with  them  a  host  of  sweet 
and  pious  tlioug^hts.  Their  faces  must  have  shone  with 
heaven's  own  lig-ht  as  they  retraced  their  steps  to  the 
home  where  loving'  heai-ts  wei-e  awaiting'  them.  Few 
such  pilgrimag'es  can  have  ever  been  perloimed.  Fran- 
cesca  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  must  have 
been  a  blessed  sight  even  for  an  augeFs  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

DEATH  OF  FRANCE8CA'8  FRIEND  AND  DIRECTOR,  DON  ANTONIO- 
TROUBLES  IN  ROME  AND  ITALY  FORETOLD  BY  FRANCESCA — 
DEATH  OF  VANNOZZA,  FRANCESCA'S  8I8TEK-1N-LAW — FOUNUA- 
TION  OF  THE  CONOREOATION  OF  OBLATE8  OF  TOR  DI  SPBCCHI. 

The  '3xtraordinary  graces  which  had  attended  om*  Saint 
durirg  her  pilgrimage  were  the  prelude  of  a  trisil 
whicii  was  awaiting  her  in  Home.  Her  eariiest  friend, 
lier  Jong-tiiisted  guide,  Don  Antonio  Savello,  had  died 
dui'fng  her  absence.  Though  she  accepted  this  dispen- 
sation of  God's  providence  with  her  habitual  i-esignation, 
it  cut  her  to  the  heart.  She  had  deeply  loved  and 
reverenced  her  spiritual  father ;  he  had  instiiicted  her 
in  childhood  ;  dii'ected  her  ever  since  with  wisdom  and 
faithfulness;  and  his  loss  was  in  one  sense  greater  to 
lier  than  that  of  any  other  friend.  It  occmi'ed,  too,  at 
the  very  moment  when  she  was  about  to  carry  out  the 
Divine  intimation  with  regaiti  to  the  foundation  of  a 
new  CongTegation,  when  diificulties  were  every  where 
staring  her  in  the  face,  and  the  want  of  a  powerlul  and 
willing  auxiliaiy  more  than  ever  needful.  She  did  not, 
however,  lose  courage,  but  prayed  fervently  that  God 
ould  inspire  her  choice  of  a  director ;  and  much  time 
e  spent  on  her  knees  imploring  this  favouj*.  No 
>ubt  the  sek>ction  she  made  was  the  result  of  ihesf 


CII.  XI.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  0.1 

pmyers;  and  one  of  the  proofs  tlint  God's  Wftvs  are  not 
ns  our  ways,  nor  His  tliouf^lits  as  our  thouj^fits.  Her 
choice  fell  on  Don  Giovanni  Muttiotti,  the  curate  of 
Santa  Mana  in  Trastevere,  to  wlioin  she  Imd  ah-eady 
sometimes  been  to  confession.  He  was  a  man  of  in-e- 
proacbable  character  and  distinguished  piety,  but  of  an 
irresolute  and  vaccillating'  dis|>osition,  easily  disheart- 
ened ;  nor  would  be  at  nret  sigfht  have  ap})eared  qua- 
lified for  the  direction  of  a  pereon  as  far  advancea  in 
perfection  as  Francesca,  on  whom  God  had  such  f>;i"eat 
designs,  and  with  whom  He  chose  to  deal  in  such  won- 
derful ways.  But  the  trials  wiiich  Francesca  had  to 
endiu«  from  the  irresokition  of  Don  Giovanni ;  the  pa- 
tience with  which  she  submitted  to  his  varyin";  com- 
mands; and  the  supematui-al  means  thi-ougli  wltich  he 
was  taught  to  recognise  her  sanctity,  and  to  assist  in 
caiTying  out  her  designs,  tended  in  tlie  end  to  tlie  glory 
of  God,  and  the  praise  of  the  Saint,  whose  very  humility 
was  a  trial  to  her,  in  those  days  of  small  beginnings, 
and  often  of  painiid  doubts.  Ci-osses  of  vnrious  kinds 
arose  in  connection  with  the  imdei-taking*.  Some  of  the 
monks  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  lor  instance,  took  occasion, 
on  the  visits  of  a  fatiier  ins|)ector,  to  complain  of  Don 
Ipiwlito,  and  to  accuse  him  of  ti-ansgressing  the  sta- 
tutes, and  going-  beyond  his  powei-s,  in  admittin""  a  con- 
gregation of  women  to  the  name  and  the  privileges  of 
their  oi*der ;  es|)ecia^ly  considering  that  several  of  these 
women  wei*e  married,  and  livin""  in  the  world.  Btlt  the 
visitor  was  a  man  of  piety  and  pnidence.  He  closely 
examined  into  the  question,  ana  satisfied  himself  that 
the  institution  tended  to  edification,  and  was  pleasing 
to  God;  and  he  sanctioned  it  accoixlingly,  as  far  as  was 
in  his  power,  and  promised  to  advocate  its  cause  with 
the  father-general. 

In  the  mouth  of  July  of  1430  Francesca  had  a 
remarkable  vision,  which  indicated  to  her  the  events 
that  wei-e  speedily  to  follow,  and  which  she  prophesied 
with  an  accuracy,  that,  in  the  end,  occasioned  general 
astonishment.    One  ni<>-ht,  after  spending  sevend  hom-g 


00 


ST.  FIIANCES  OF  UOMR. 


>  I 


in  pmycr,  slio  saw  a  lurid  liirht,  tlirnug-li  wliicli  a  inim* 
bor  of  Satan's  minister  were  hurrying-  to  and  fro, 
shaking'  their  torches,  and  rejoicing-  with  dreadful  glee 
over  the  impending  calamities  of  Home.  The  Saint  fell 
on  her  knees,  and  besought  the  Lord  to  spare  her  un- 
happ3'  country.  Then  falling  into  ecstasy,  she  b'^held 
the  Infant  Jesus  in  His  Mother's  arms  surrounded  with 
angels,  and  St.  Peter,  St.  Paul,  and  St.  John  tiie  Bap- 
tist in  the  attitude  of  pmyer,  pleading  for  mercy  to 
the  Eternal  City,  which  they  seemed  to  protj^ct  by  tlnir 
fervent  supplications.  At  the  same  time  she  heard  a 
voice  that  said,  "  The  prayei-s  of  the  saints  have  stayed 
the  ann  of  the  Lord ;  but  woe  to  the  guilty  city  if  she 
I'epent  not,  for  great  afflictions  are  at  hand."  Some 
days  aftenvards  the  lig'htning  fell  simultaneously  on  the 
churches  of  St.  i*eter,  St.  Paul,  and  on  the  shrine  of  St. 
John  Baptist  in  tiie  Lateran  Basilica.  P'l-ancesca  shud- 
dered when  she  heard  of  it ;  she  felt  at  once  that  the 
day  of  gi-ace  had  gone  by ;  and  in  thrilling  words  de- 
sci-ibed  to  her  confessor,  and  to  sevei-al  other  persons 
that  wei-e  present,  the  misfortunes  that  were  about  to 
fall  upon  Rome. 

Tlie  fulfilment  of  her  predictions  was  not  long  de- 
layed, though  nothincr  at  tlie  time  seemed  to  give  them 
weight.  The  unwearied  exertions  of  Martin  V.  had  suc- 
ceeded in  healing  the  wounds  of  Christendom.  In  Home 
he  had  repressed  anarchy,  recalled  the  exiled  citizens  to 
their  homes,  rebuilt  the  churches,  given  a  new  impulse  to 
tlie  government,  to  the  administration  of  justice,  to  poli- 
tics, to  literature,  to  science,  and  to  art.  lie  had  worked 
hard  to  promote  a  reformation  in  the  manners  of  the 
clergy,  and  elFected  in  many  places  the  re-establishment 
of  the  disciplme  of  the  Church.  The  legates  whom  he  sent 
to  all  the  courts  of  Europe  had  restored  some  degree  of 
union  between  the  Christian  princes,  and  preached  a 
crusade  against  the  Turks  and  the  followers  of  John 
iluss.  He  had  called  togetlier  a  council,  which  was 
lii-st  convened  at  Pavia,  and  aftenvards  removed,  fii-st 
to  Sienna;  and  then  to  Ba^^le.    But  before  he  could  him 


CH.  ZI.] 


ST.  PRAMCBft  OF  ROME. 


07 


self  join  the  assembly,  death  overtook  him.  Worn  out 
with  his  indefatigable  labours  for  the  welfare  of  Chris- 
tendom, he  went  to  rrcnive  his  reward  at  an  unadvanced 
age,  in  the  month  of  February  of  the  year  1431. 

Gabriel  Candalucero  succeeded  him  under  the  name 
of  Eugenhis  IV.  The  first  Consistory  which  he  held 
was  marked  by  a  fearful  accident,  which  people  chose 
to  consider  as  an  evil  omen.  The  iloor  of  tlie  nail  gave 
way,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  that  ensued  a 
bishop  was  killed,  and  many  persons  grievouslv  wounded. 
A  discontented  monk  put  about  the  re|K)rt  that  Martin 
V.  had  died  in  possession  of  a  considerable  treasui-e; 
and  the  Colonnas,  catching  eagerly  at  this  pretext,  took 
up  arms  to  make  good  theii*  claims  to  this  supposed 
heritage.  Once  more  the  adverse  fact'ons  rose  against 
each  other,  and  blood  llowed  in  the  streets  of  Rome. 
The  Colonnas  were  constrained  t«  fiy ;  and  the  monk, 
convicted  of  liaving  conspired  to  deliver  up  the  Castle 
of  St.  Angelo  to  the  rel)els,  and  to  get  the  Pope  assassi- 
nated, was  condemned  to  death  and  executed.  A  teni;- 
porary  reconciliation  was  effected  between  Eugenius 
1 V.  and  the  too  powerful  family  of  the  C  olonnas ;  but 
their  haughty  and  vi' jlent  temper  soon  brought  about  a 
rupture.  They  advanced  upon  Rome  at  tne  head  of 
their  troops;  a  bloody  engagement  took  place  under 
the  walls  of  the  city,  in  which  the  pontifical  troops  had 
the  upper  hand,  but  many  of  fhe  nobles  perisned  in 
the  anray. 

Conflicts  of  a  still  more  harrowing  nature  now  arose 
between  the  Pope  and  the  Council  of  Basle.  Duke 
Philip  of  Milan  availed  himself  of  this  opportunity  to 
retrieve  the  sacrifices  he  had  made  in  a  treaty  which 
the  Pope  had  led  him  to  sign  with  the  Vcnetions.  He 
forg«d  a  decree  which  purported  to  proceed  from  the 
fathers  of  the  council,  appointing  him  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  Church  in  Italy ;  and  armed  with  this 
assrmed  title,  he  despatched  to  the  Roman  States 
Francesca  Sfoi-za  and  Nicholas  Fortebraccio,  two  fa- 
mous adventurei-s  in  his  |my.     The  latter  advanced 


II 


98 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


1' 

4 


II 


upon  Rome,  and  began  to  devastate  its  neighbourhood. 
Tlie  Pope,  wholly  unprepared  for  defence,  warded  off 
the  danger  by  sowing  dissension  between  the  two  gene- 
nds,  which  he  effected  by  giving  up  to  Sforza,  for  his 
lifetime,  the  possession  of  Ancona,  and  of  the  provinces 
which  he  had  conquered  in  the  states  of  the  Church. 
Sforza,  in  consequence,  took  part  with  Eugenius,  and 
defeated  Fortebraccio  at  Tivoli ;  but  in  the  meantime 
a  ^eneml  insurrection  broke  out  in  Rome  itself.  The 
(thibelline  pai-ty  attacked  the  Pope,  laid  siege  to  the 
cliurch  of  the  Holy  Apostles,  where  he  had  taken 
shelter,  and  fi-om  whence  he  escriped  with  di:fficulty 
disguised  as  a  monk,  embai'ked  on  the  Tiber,  and  found 
a  rei'uge  first  at  Pisa  and  then  at  Bolog^na.  Rome  was 
given  up  for  five  months  to  all  the  horrors  of  anarchy, 
the  pontifical  palace  pill^ed,  and  new  rjtigistrates 
chosen  in  lieu  of  those  appointed  by  the  Pope;  the 
pinison  of  the  castle  of  8t.  Angelo  alone  remaining 
nrm  in  its  allegiance  to  the  sovei'eign  Pontiff.  Weary 
at  last  of  so  much  disorder,  the  city  of  its  own  accord 
submitted  itself  to  lawful  authority.  Eugenius  sent 
a  legate,  who  in  some  measure  succeeded  in  re-estab- 
lishing peace ;  but  he  himself  remained  in  the  north  of 
Italy,  engaged  in  convoking  a  council,  wherewith  to 
oppose  the  irreg^ar  decrees  of  that  assembled  at  Dasle. 
These  events,  which  spread  over  several  years,  are 
related  in  confirmation  of  the  prophetical  gifts  of  Fnm- 
cesca,  who  accurately  foresaw  and  foretold  them  when 
nothing  presaged  their  occmrence.  At  the  time  when 
this  storm  was  about  to  burst  over  Italy,  and  the  be- 
ginning of  sorrow  was  at  hand,  she  was  doomed  to 
experience  anotlicr  of  the  heavy  afflictions  that  life  had 
yet  in  store  for  her.  Yannozza,  her  cherislied  com- 
panion, her  sister,  her  counsellor,  her  bosom  friend,  was 
summoned  to  receive  her  heavenly  crown ;  and  she 
herself  to  add  to  all  her  virtues  a  moi-e  prfect  detach- 
ment from  all  earthly  ties.  Thoy  had  been  united  by 
every  link  that  affection,  sympathy,  and  similm-ity  of 
l(t«eliug,  tttstits,  and  opinions  can  crosite  botweeii  two 


CII.  XI.] 


ST.  PltANCeS  OF  ROM  IS. 


01? 


are 

nm- 

when 

when 

be- 
to 

had 
coni- 

was 

she 
tacli- 
(i  by 
t,y  o{ 

two 


hearts  devoted  to  Ood,  and  through  Him  to  eanh  other. 
Their  union  had  not  been  obscured  by  the  smallest 
cloud.  Together  they  had  prayed,  suffered,  and  la- 
boui'ed;  and  in  trials  and  foys  alike  they  had  been 
'nseparable.  Francesca  had  oeen  warned  in  a  vision  of 
the  approaching  end  of  her  sister-in-law ;  and  at  length, 
strons'  in  faith,  she  stands  by  her  dying-bed;  and  when 
the  Evil  One,  baffled  in  life,  makes  a  final  effort  to 
disturb  the  departing  soul,  she  prays  for  the  beloved 
of  her  heart,  sprinkles  holy  water  on  that  much-loved 
forr.i,  reads  aloud  the  history  of  the  Pp.ssion  of  our 
Lord;  and  Vannozza,  supported  by  those  sacramental 

g-aces  which  Satan  cannot  withstand,  followed  almost 
lyond  the  verge  of  life  by  that  watchful  tenderness 
which  had  been  her  joy  on  earth,  sees  the  evil  spirit 
retire  before  the  might  of  Francesca's  angel,  and 
breathes  her  last  in  perfect  peace.  The  soul  which 
had  served  and  loved  God  so  fervently  upon  earth  was 
carried  up  to  heaven  in  a  form  visible  to  the  eyes  of 
her  friend;  a  pure  flame,  enveloped  in  a  light  trans- 
parent cloud,  was  the  symbol  of  that  gentle  spirit's 
flight  into  its  kindn-  i  skies. 

The  mortal  remains  of  Vannozza  were  laid  in  the 
church  of  the  Ara  Coeli,  in  the  chapel  of  Santa  Croco. 
The  Roman  people  resorted  there  in  crowds  to  behold 
once  more  their  loved  benefactress, — the  mother  of  the 
poor,  the  consoler  of  the  afflicted.  All  strove  to  cany 
away  some  little  memorial  of  one  who  had  gone  about 
among  them  doing  good ;  and  during  the  three  days 
which  preceded  the  interment,  the  concourse  did  not 
abate.  On  the  day  of  the  funeral,  Francesca  knelt  on 
one  side  of  the  coffin,  and,  in  sight  of  all  the  crowd,  she 
was  rapt  in  ecstasy.  They  saw  her  body  lift«l  from 
the  ground,  and  a  seraphic  expression  in  her  uplifted 
face.  Thev  heard  her  murmur  several  times  with  an 
indescribable  emphasis  the  woitl,  "  When  ?  when  V* 
{Qmndo?  qvanao?)  When  all  was  over,  she  still 
remained  immovable:  it  seemed  as  if  her  soul  hau 
risen  on  the  wii^o^  prayer,  ani  followed  Voniiozzu's 


£tllvi#fiii^ 


100 


8T.  PRANCE9  OP  ROMS. 


spirit  into  the  realms  of  bliss.  At  Inst  her  confessoi  or^ 
dei-ed  her  to  lise,  and  to  go  and  attend  on  the  sick.  Site 
instantly  complied,  and  walked  away  to  the  hospital 
which  she  had  foinided,  apparently  unconscious  of  every 
thino'  about  her,  and  only  roused  from  her  t.ance  by 
the  habit  of  obedience  which,  in  or  out  of  ecstasy,  never 
forsook  her. 

From  that  day  her  visions  grew  more  frequent 
and  more  astonishing*.  She  seemed  to  live  in  heaven; 
and  dunng*  those  hours  of  mystical  intercourse  with 
paints  and  angels,  and  with  the  Lord  of  angels  and 
of  saints,  to  obtair  supernatural  ligiits  which  guided 
her  in  the  foundation  of  her  new  congregation.  Tiie 
Blessed  Virgin  revealed  to  her  that  St.  Paul,  St 
Benedict,  and  St.  Mary  Magdalene  were  to  be  its 
protectors;  and  that  Don  Giovanni  Mattiotti,  her  di- 
rector, Fm  Bartolommeo  Biondii,  of  the  order  of  St. 
Francis,  and  Don  Ippolito,  of  the  Olivetan  Oljedience, 
were  to  co-operate  with  her  in  its  establishment.  Ti 
Don  Giovanni  a  pailiicular  message  was  s«nit  to  confirm 
him  in  the  intention  of  forwarding  the  work,  and  to 
warn  him  against  discouragement  from  the  many  diffi- 
culties it  would  meet  with.  Wonderfiil  were  the  sigiits 
which  it  was  given  her  to  see  in  those  long  ecstasies, 
diuing  which  her  soul  seemed  to  absent  itself  from 
her  ail-but  spiritualised  body.  Sometimes  a  speechless 
contemplation  held  all  her  faculties  in  abeyance;  at 
others,  in  burning  words,  she  described  what  passed 
1)efore  her  menttd  sight.  At  times  her  motionless  atti- 
tude almost  wont  the  semblance  of  death ;  while  often 
she  moved  about  and  perfoi-med  various  actions  in  con- 
nection with  the  subjects  of  her  visions.  In  the  churches 
which  she  frequented, — in  Santa  Croce  in  Gerusa- 
iiemme,  in  Santa  Maria  in  Trastevere,  in  the  Chapel 
of  the  Ange?s  in  Santa  Cecilia,  in  her  own  oratory, — 
she  is  favou:*ed  with  the  presence  of  celestial  visitants. 
ITie  various  ecclesiastical  feasts  of  the  year  bring  with 
them  analogous  revelations ;  she  spends  her  time  in  the 
cave  of  Bethlehem  and  the  house  of  Nazareth,  on  the 


rn.  XI.J  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  101 

mountains,  where  Jesus  wns  wont  to  pmy,  where  He 
was  transfigured,  where  He  agonised,  and  where  He 
died.  She  adores  with  the  sliepherds  and  the  wise 
men;  she  Hstens  to  His  voice  with  the  discijilcs  and 
the  devout  multitude ;  she  suffers  with  the  Motlier  of 
sorrows,  and  weeps  with  the  Magdalene  at  the  foot  of 
the  Cross.  The  beauties  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  the 
lovely  pastmvs,  the  fi-esh  watei-s,  the  bright  flowci-s, 
the  precious  stones,  which  typify  the  glories  of  the 
world  to  come,  ai*e  spread  betoi-e  her  in  those  mystic 
trances.  Deeper  and  more  mysterious  i-evelations  are 
vouchsafed,  wonderfid  secrets  disclosed  to  her  under 
expressive  symbols,  and  St.  Paul  is  her  guide  throu<^h 
those  regions  whci*e  he  was  mvished  in  spiiit  wliile  stil], 
like  her,  an  inhabitant  of  earth.  One  day  that  she  was 
in  ecstasy  a  voice  of  more  than  common  sweetness 
addressea  to  her  these  woi-ds—  "  Thy  path  is  strewn 
with  thorns,  Francesca,  and  many  an  obstacle  will 
stand  in  thy  way,  ere  thy  little  Hock  can  be  gathered 
together  in  our  abode.  But  remember  that  hail  does 
iiot  always  follow  upon  thunder,  and  that  the  brightest 
sunshine  often  breaks  through  the  darkest  clouds. 

Encouraged  by  this  intimation,  the  Saint  began  in 
earnest  to  consider  of  the  means  of  establishing  her  con- 
gi'egation.  During  a  short  absence  which  her  husband 
made  from  Rome,  she  invited  all  the  Oblates  to  her 
house,  and  having  made  them  share  her  slight  repast, 
she  assembled  them  around  her,  and  spoke  to  them  to 
the  following  effect :  "  My  dear  companions,  I  have 
called  you  together  in  order  to  impart  to  you  the  lights 
which  I  have  received  fi'om  the  Lord  and  His  blessed 
Mother  with  regard  to  our  congregation.  For  seven 
years  we  have  oeen  especially  consecrated  to  her  ser- 
vice, and  have  bound  ourselves  to  live  in  chastity  and 
obedience,  and  to  observe  the  rules  prescribed  to  us ; 
and  I  have  long  thought  that  as  we  have  been  united  in 
spirit  and  in  intention,  so  ought  we  to  Ix.  in  our  outward 
mode  of  life.  For  a  while  I  fancied  that  this  my  desire 
Blight  only  be  the  result  of  my  matei-nal  affection  for 


102 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROMB. 


you,  and  of  my  solicitude  for  your  advancement.  But 
the  Lord  has  at  last  revealed  to  me  tlint  it  is  His  will 
that  I  should  found  a  new  spiiitual  edifice  in  this  city, 
the  ancient  stronghold  of  religion  and  of  faith.  It  will 
form  an  asylum  tor  those  persons  of  your  sex  and  ot 
your  rank  who  have  conceived  the  generous  resolution 
ctf  forsaking  the  world  and  its  allurements;  I  have 
liegged  of  the  Lord  to  select  for  His  purpose  one  less 
imworthy  than  myself,  but  I  dare  no  longer  witlistana 
liie  manifestation  of  His  will.  I  am  prepai'ed  to  ac- 
complish His  bidding;  but  without  you,  my  sisters, 
what  can  J  do  ?  You  are  the  foundations  of  the  build- 
ing, the  first  stones  of  the  nevr  spiritual  house  of  Hin 
mother.  You  are  the  seed  from  which  a  plentiful  bar- 
vest  is  to  spring.  Earthly  cares,  the  temporal  afifui« 
of  life,  must  no  longer  take  up  your  time.  He  sum- 
mons you  to  a  retreat,  where  you  will  live  in  His  pre- 
sence, imitate  His  example,  and  copy  the  virtues  of 
Maiy^  where  you  will  pray  for  Rome,  and  turn  away 
His  wrath  from  the  degenerate  and  guilty  city.  Have 
you  not  heard  how  two  years  ago  the  thunderbolts  fell 
on  her  sacred  towers  ?  Do  you  not  see  how  every  day 
ii-esh  miseriM  are  gathering  on  the  devoted  heads  of 
her  people  ?  But  God  is  full  of  mercy ;  when  mos^^  in- 
censed at  our  sins.  He  casts  about  for  souls  that  will 
appease  His  anger.  He  has  turned  His  eyes  upon  us. 
He  bids  us  unite,  and  stand  in  the  breach  betweep  Him 
and  the  daring  s'mners  who  each  day  defy  Him.  Why 
taiTy  we  longer?  whyfiirther  delay?  The  arms  of  the 
Blessed  Vir^  are  wide  open  to  receive  us.  Shall  we 
draw  back  m)m  her  embrace  ?  No,  rather  let  us  fly 
to  her  feet." 

As  she  pronounced  these  last  words  Francesca  fell  into 
an  ecstasy,  which  lasted  for  some  time,  and  during  which 
she  pleaaed  with  God  for  those  who  were  to  l)elong  to 
the  new  institute.  Her  companions  gazed  upon  hr  r  with 
silent  veneration ;  and  when  she  came  to  herself,  r  11  with 
one  accoitl,  and  with  tears  of  joy,  professed  the*  iselye^ 
ready  to  make  eveiy  sacrifice  wuicn  God  migh^  require 


CH.  XI. I 


ST.  FBANCES  OF  ROME. 


1(5 


of  them,  and  to  adopt  the  mode  of  hfe  and  the  nile 
which  Fi-ancesca  mi[jfht  sug'g^st.  But  their  assent  wa3 
only  a  preHminary  step  in  the  undertaking*.  It  was 
necess&ry  to  find  a  house  suitahh)  to  their  purpose,  to 
obtain  the  consent  of  the  still  existing*  parents  of  some 
of  the  Ohlates,  to  fix  in  a  definitive  manner  their  .ule 
and  constitutions,  and  finally  to  procure  the  sanction  of 
the  Holy  Father,  and  his  appraval  of  the  new  order. 
Francesca  attended  in  turn  to  each  of  tliese  objects.  lu 
tlie  first  place  she  consulted  her  three  coadjutors  on  the 
choice  of  a  house;  and  difficulties  without  number  arose 
on  this  point.  The  priests  were  alarmed  nt  the  sensa- 
tion which  this  undertaking*  would  produce,  and  wera 
quite  at  a  loss  to  find  money  for  the  purchase.  Fran- 
cesca had  Ions*  since  given  away  almost  all  that  she 
po^sessed.  What  little  remained  was  devoted  to  works 
of  charity  which  could  not  be  abandoned,  and  all  agreed 
that  she  was  on  no  account  to  have  recom-se  on  this 
occasion  to  her  husband  or  to  her  son.  While  they 
were  deUberating,  Francesca  was  favoured  with  a  vision, 
in  which  the  divine  assistance  was  promised  to  the 
Oblates,  and  their  protectors  (Don  Giovanni  in  parti- 
cular) exhorted  to  perseverance.  Encoui-aged  by  these 
assurances,  they  looked  out  for  a  house  adapted  to  the 
requirements  of  a  religious  community;  and  after  many 
researches  Don  Ippouto  proposed  to  Don  Giovanni  a 
building  in  the  Camnitelli  district,  on  the  spot  where 
the  old  tower,  known  oy  the  name  of  "  Tor  di  Specchi," 
used  to  stand,  directly  opposite  to  the  Capitol,  and  not 
far  fiom  the  Santa  Mai-ia  Nuova.  Various  obstacles 
arose  to  the  purchase  of  this  house,  wluch  was  neither 
as  lai^  nor  as  convenient  as  might  have  been  wished ; 
but  they  \\  ui-e  finally  overcome,  and  the  acquisition  com- 
pleted towards  the  end  of  the  yeai*  1432.  This  house, 
which  was  ct  fii-st  considered  only  as  a  tem|)orary  resi- 
dence, was  subsequently  added  to,  and  has  remained  to 
this  day  the  central  house  of  the  order ;  and  in  the  ])on- 
tifical  bull  the  congregation  is  designed  by  the  name 
of  "  Oblates  of  Tor  di  Specchi." 


V\ 


104 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


|i 


This  matter  once  arranged,  Francesca  succeeded  in 
dissipating  the  objections  raised  by  the  parents  of  some 
of  the  younger  Oblates,  and  to  reconcile  them  to  tlie 
proposed  alteration  in  their  daughters*  mode  of  Ufe.  It 
was  dcubtless  a  trial  to  her  that  while  she  was  remov- 
ing all  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  more  perfect 
liie  which  her  companions  were  about  to  lead,  she  her- 
self could  only,  like  Moses,  look  on  the  pronused  land 
of  spiritual  seclusion  which  they,  her  disciples  and  her 
children,  were  entering  oiu  and  ailer  which  she  had 
yearned  from  the  days  of  her  childhood.  But  she 
never  hesitated  as  to  her  line  of  duty ;  it  was  clear 
before  her.  Lorenzo  had  released  her  from  all  obliga- 
tions but  one — that  of  residing  in  his  house  and  watch- 
ing over  his  old  age.  His  infirmities  were  increasing, 
and  her  attentions  indispensable  to  his  comfort.  No 
one  could  supply  to  him  Prancef^ca's  care.  She  offered 
ap  to  God  the  daily  self-denial  of  her  exijtence;  and  by 
fresh  tokens  of  His  favour  He  rewarded  her  obedience. 

Her  next  anxiety  was  the  formation  of  the  consti- 
tution and  of  the  rules  which  were  to  govern  the  infant 
congregation;  and  in  frequent  conferences  with  her  pious 
coadjutors  the  subject  was  discussed.  Afler  many  deli- 
berations, during  which  they  could  arrive  at  no  con- 
clusion, it  was  agreed  that  the  matter  should  be  laid 
before  God  in  prater;  and  their  hope  was  not  deceived. 
In  a  series  of^  visions, — in  which  St.  Paul  in  the  first 
instance,  and  on  other  occasions  the  blessed  Virgin  and 
St  John  the  Evangelist,  appeared  to  France8ca,--direc- 
tions  were  given  her  so  ample  and  so  detailed  as  to  the 
rule  which  her  spiritual  daughters  were  to  follow,  that 
there  remained  no  room  for  hesitation.  The  several 
fasts  which  they  were  to  observe ;  the  length  of  time 
which  they  were  to  devote  to  prayer,  to  work,  and  to 
sleep;  the  manner  in  which  their  actions  were  to  be 
peirrormed ;  the  vocal  prayers  they  were  to  recite ;  the 
solituile,  the  silence  they  were  to  keep ;  the  poverty, 
the  community  of  goods  which  they  were  to  practise ; 
their  dress,  their  occupations,  their  separation  from  the 


CH    XII.]  ST.  PRANCES  OP  HOMS. 


!o6 


World)  their  detachment  from  all  er  thiy  ties  of  interest 
and  kindred  which  they  were  at  all  times  to  ])e  inspired 
with ;  the  precautions  to  ]>e  titken  in  jw'ocunng'  the  con- 
sent of  })arents,  and  securing^  the  free  action  of  the 
Oblates  who  might  hei*eufter  join  tlie  order,  were  all 
indicated  with  the  greatest  precision ;  and  instructions 
were  transmitted  to  Don  Giovanni  and  his  co-o[)ei-ator8 
to  enlighten  them  as  to  the  gfuidnnce  and  government 
of  the  congregation.  Tiie  miracidous  mnnnpr  in  whicii 
the  Saint  had  often  read  their  most  secret  tiioughts,  the 
miracles  they  saw  her  perform,  and  the  admirable  ten. 
oui'  of  her  life,  in  which  the  most  active  viHues  were 
combined  with  the  deepest  hnmiUty,  and  supematui-al 
favours  received  with  the  most  profound  self-aoasement, 
were  to  them  a  warrant  of  tlie  genuineness  of  her  reve- 
lations, the  substance  of  which,  con(h>nsed  and  reduced 
into  a  seiies  of  rules,  ai-e  to  this  day  observed  by  the 
Oblates  of  Tor  di  Speech!. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FROGRiaS  AND  TRIALS  OP  THE  TOUNO  COMMUNITT — IT  IS  CONFIRMED 
BT  THE  POPE— TROUBLES  IN  ROME  AND  TIIE  CHURCH  TERMI- 
NATED THROUGH  FRANCESCA*8  INTERCESSION  AND  THE  COUNCIL 
OF  FLORENCE. 

It  was  on  the  S5th  of  March,  the  Feast  of  the  Annun 
elation,  in  the  year  1433,  that  the  Oblates,  ten  in  num- 
ber, met  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  in  Ti-astevere, 
T^ere  their  holy  foundress  had  so  long  been  in  the  habit 
of  resorting.  They  all  heard  Mass,  and  went  to  com- 
mtmion  with  the  utmost  fervour,  and  then  in  procession 

Proceeded  to  the  house  they  were  hencefoi-ward  to  in- 
abit.  That  house,  which  now-a-days  is  thrown  o]>en 
during  the  Octave  of  the  Feast  of  San  Francesca,  where 
young  women  come  with  their  little  children,  and  {loint 
oat  to  them  the  room  which  they  inhabited  in  their  owk 


109  ST.  VRANOEB  OF  IIOMB. 

drildlioud,  when  under  the  g'entle  care  of  the  Oblates  of 
Mary.  It  is  no  g-loomy  abode,  tlie  Convent  of  Tor  di 
Specchi  even  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  cannot  under- 
stand the  hnppiness  of  a  nun.  It  is  such  a  place  as  one 
loves  to  see  chiklren  in ;  where  roHg'ion  is  combined 
with  every  thing*  tlint  pleases  tho  eye  and  reci«nt«s  the 
mind.  l*he  beautiful  ehii|>el ;  tlie  g'nrden  with  its  mag*- 
nificent  omng^-trees ;  the  open  gfalleries,  with  their 
fancif'V  decorations  and  scenic  recesses,  where  a  holy 
^^<a|svrt*  or  fijjfui'o  takes  you  by  surprise,  and  meets  vott 
tit  f^Yif^'-}  turn ;  the  light  airy  rooms  whei-e  religpious 
pr  •  '  ■  i  u"  ornaments,  with  flowers,  birds,  and  ingenious 
toys,  testi  ^hat  innocent  enjo,  ents  are  encouragv>d 
and  smiled  upon,  wliile  from  every  window  may  be 
caufi^ht  a  g'limpse  of  the  Eternal  City,  a  snii-e,  a  mined 
wall, — somethmg'  that  speaks  of  Home  ana  its  tliousand 
charms.  On  Holy  Thursday  no  sepulchre  is  more 
beautifid  than  that  of  Tor  di  Specchi.  Flowers  with* 
out  end,  and  bright  han|rings,  all  sweet  and  costly 
things,  do  homage  to  the  Lord  in  the  houi-s  of  His  lov- 
ing imprisonment. 

But  .'.1  the  day  when  Francesca's  companions  firet 
entered  those  walls,  there  was  nothing  very  fair  or 
beautiful  to  gi*eet  them,  though  they  canned  th^^y 
however,  in  their  hearts,  from  the  altar  they  had  just 
lefl,  the  source  of  all  light  and  love ;  and  to  the  eyes  of 
faith  the  scene  must  have  been  a  bright  one.  With 
delight  t'ney  exchanged  their  oixlinary  dress  for  that 
which  the  rule  prescribed ;  Francesca  alone  stood  among 
them  no  nun  m  her  outwaitl  garb,  but  the  truest  nun 
of  all,  through  the  inwai'd  consecration  of  her  whole 
being  to  God.  Agnese  de  Sellis,  a  relation  of  hers, 
and  a  woman  highly  distingfuislied  for  vu'tue  and  pru- 
dence WJis  elected  superior  of  the  house.  There  was  a 
truly  admirable  spectacle  presented  to  the  people  of 
Rome;  these  women  were  all  of  noble  birth,  and  ac- 
customed to  all  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life. 
Most  of  them  had  been  wealthy ;  some  of  them  were 
still  young;  and  for  the  love  of  God  they  had  given  up' 


cn.  xii.J 


ST.  FRANCBfl  OP  ROME. 


107 


every  thing*,  and  made  over  tLeir  possessions  to  their 
relations ;  for  it  was  not  to  lead  a  life  of  ease,  of  reli- 
ffious  quietude,  of  holy  contemplation  alone,  that  tluy 
liad  separated  tliemselves  from  the  world.  It  wns  to 
imitate  the  povei-t}"  of  Christ,  to  place  in  the  common 
stock,  as  the  first  uhristianii  did,  tiie  little  they  had  re- 
served, and  to  endm-e  all  the  privations  incident  on 
poverty.  Their  exact  and  spontaneous  ohedience  to  the 
cpentle  Agnese  was  as  remarkahle  as  the  sweetness  and 
humility  with  which  she  ruled.  Seldom  seen  ahroad, 
their  hours  were  divided  between  prayer,  meditation, 
spiritual  readini^,  and  works  of  mercy.*  Francescn, 
obliged  to  be  absent  from  them  in  l)ody,  ^"^as  ever  pro- 
sent  with  them  in  spirit.  She  was  the  tt  aer  t  mother 
to  the  little  flock  that  had  gnthei-ed  un'^er  I  shelter- 
ing wing:  ministei'ing  to  their  nee  ^<^. '^ies ^  visiting 
them  as  often  as  she  could  leave  h  .  !iu. band's  side; 
exciting  them  on  to  perfection  by  her  wt^  is  <uid  exam- 
ple ;  consoling  the  weak,  and  confiiT  'ng  the  strong. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  tl  .i  i^oit  congrega- 
tion could  be  fi'ee  from  evil  re|K)rts,  and  from  the  kind 
of  persecution  which  ever  attends  the  undertakings  and 
tries  the  courage  of  God's  most  faithful  servants.  The 
mode  of  life  of  the  Olilates  became  the  general  subject 
of  conversation  ;  and  tliough  the  wiser  and  better  ))or- 
tion  of  the  community  were  filled  with  respect  and  ad- 
miration for  their  vii-tues,  there  were  not  wanting  persons 
to  raise  a  cry  against  them  and  against  their  foundress, 
and  to  complain  that  women  should  be  allowed  to  lead 
an  existence  which  was  strictly  speaking  neither  secular 
nor  religious ;  a  monastery  without  enclosure,  without 
vov^s,  without  revenues,  without  any  security  for  its 
permanent  support.    Their  comments  were  not  without 

*  The  rule  which  they  then  adopted  remains  the  same  to  this 
Jay.  The  Obktos  of  'lor  di  r>pccfhi  are  not,  strictly  speaking;, 
nuns:  they  take  no  vows,  and  are  bound  by  no  obligations  under 
pnin  of  sin;  they  are  not  cloistered,  and  their  dress  is  that  which 
«  as  worn  at  the  period  of  their  establishment  by  the  widows  ol 
tlie  lUxMUi  nobles. 


108 


8T.  FRANCES  OP  ROMB. 


effect  on  the  naturally  irresolute  mind  of  Don  Giovanni 
Mattiotti  and  Fra  Bai'tolommeo  Biandii.  The  former, 
in  particular,  erew  discontented  and  desponding*.  The 
direcfion  of  the  oitler  was  a  heavy  burden  to  nim ; 
and  his  faith  in  Francesca's  revelations  was  shaken  by 
the  many  worldly  diificuities  which  he  foresaw.  The  mi<* 
raculous  manner  in  which  the  Saint  read  his  thoughts, 
and  transmitted  to  him  and  his  companion  the  reproofs 
and  encouragements  which  were  supematurally  ad- 
di-essed  to  them  through  the  medium  of  one  of  her 
visions,  opened  their  eyes  to  a  sense  of  their  pusilla* 
nimity,  and  made  them  ashamed  of  their  misgivings. 

Another  threatened  trial  was,  by  the  mercy  of  God, 
turned  into  a  consolation.  One  of  the  youngest  of  the 
Oblates,  Augustina  Goluzzi,  was  the  only  child  of  her 
mother,  who  was  a  widow.  This  mother  had  made  a 
cpenerous  sacrifice  to  God  in  gladly  suri'endering  this 
beloved  daughter  to  the  exclusive  serviv^e  of  Him  who 
had  called  her  to  that  high  vocation ;  but  she  had  mis- 
calculated her  sacrifice,  or,  ])erhaps,  trusted  too  much 
to  her  own  strength.  When  the  sacrifice  was  made, 
the  human  feelings  rose  in  her  heart  with  terrible  vio- 
lence, and  life  ap{)eared  to  her  as  one  dreaiy  blank,  now 
that  her  home  was  shorb  of  its  lig>ht,  now  that  the  be- 
loved child  of  her  heart  had  ceased  to  gladden  her  eyes. 
Self-reproach  for  their  vain  repinings  heightened  her 
misery,  and  misery  at  last  grew  into  despair.  In  an 
instant  of  wild  recklessness  she  seized  a  k.  jfe,  and  was 
about  to  destroy  herself,  when,  like  an  angel  at  the 
hour  of  her  utmost  need,  her  daughter  was  at  her  side, 
and  arrested  her  arm.  It  was  so  agauist  all  rules  and 
all  probabihties  that  she  should  have  come  to  her  at 
that  moment,  that  she  gazed  on  her  in  silent  astonish- 
ment. Francesca  was  m  prayer  at  the  moment  when 
Satan  had  been  tempting  the  unfortimate  woman ;  and 
the  dreadful  danger  she  was  in  was  miraculously  re- 
vealed to  her.  She  instantly  ordered  Augustina  to 
leave  what  she  was  about,  and  hurry  to  her  mother. 
The  yumig  girl  oniied  in  time;  and  so  great  was  the 


CH.  XII.]  8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME.  109 

impression  which  this  merciful  interposition  proclucea 
on  the  mother,  so  deep  her  sense  of  tiie  |>eril  to  wliiuh 
her  soul  hud  been  exiHJSod,  that  she  hastened  to  tlirow 
herself  at  Francescii's  feet,  and  with  blessings  on  her 
and  on  her  daughter,  she  expressed  her  gratitude  for 
Augustina's  vocation,  and  her  earnest  wish  that  she 
should  remain  faithfid  to  it. 

Another  trial  arose  in  those  early  days  at  Tor  <U 
Sjiecchi  fi*om  the  resolution  formed  by  a  wealthy  young 
liein^ss  to  join  the  order.  She  belonged  to  one  of  the 
noblest  families  in  Home,  and  was  bent  on  employing 
her  fortune  in  suiiiHjrting  the  infant  congregation.  I*  ran- 
cesca  was  reluctant  to  i*eceive  her;  but,  over  persuaded 
by  the  opinions  of  others,  she  gave  way.  A  violent 
oj)|)osition  immediately  arose ;  and  there  was  no  end  to 
the  calumnies  and  vitu|)erntions  which  were  employed 
on  the  occasion.  Francesca,  again  enlightened  by  a 
divine  intimation,  insisted  on  restoring  the  young  person 
to  her  family ;  and  a  rule  was  henceforward  maae  that 
none  but  persons  of  a  more  advanced  age  should  be 
admitted  into  the  order. 

These  and  many  other  difficulties  rendered  it  veiy 
desirable  that  the  approval  of  the  Holy  Father  shoulU 
set  its  seal  on  the  work,  and  furnish  it  with  a  shield 
against  the  malice  of  the  world.  The  permissions  which 
they  sought  were  as  follows :  1st,  that  the  Obiates 
should  be  allowed  the  rights  to  live  in  community,  and 
to  admit  other  persons  into  their  society  ;  2d,  that  they 
might  elect  for  themselves  a  su|)erioress ;  dd,  that  this 
superioress  should  have  the  power  of  choosing  a  con- 
fessor for  the  house;  4th,  that  they  should  have  a 
chapel  in  which  to  hear  Mass,  to  cro  to  confession  and 
to  communion,  and  be  exempted  n-om  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  parish  and  the  parish  priests.  This  scheme  was 
fully  approved  ct  by  the  three  coadjutors;  but  it  was 
some  time  before  Don  Giovanni  could  be  induced  to  lay 
it  before  the  sovereign  Pontiff.  He  alleged  that  tiio 
disturbed  state  of  Rome,  and  the  many  distmcting  cures 
which  were  besetting  the  Holy  Father,  held  out  no  proi-, 


110 


f)T.  FRANCES  OK  HOME. 


pect  of  8ucce8§  in  such  a  mission ;  but,  urgpod  by  varioiit 
irreMlstible  proofs  that  (tod  willeti  thnt  ha  should  iindHi- 
tako  it,  he  at  last  consenttMl.  The  {tetition  was  fniined 
in  the  name  of  the  Oblates,  Francescu  absolutely  refusing 
to  be  mentioned  as  the  foundress.  While  he  I)ent  hiit 
way  to  the  {mntifical  palace,  the  Oblates  of  Tor  di  Spec- 
chi  and  the  monks  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova  joined  in 
fervent  prayer  to  God  for  the  success  of  his  application. 
Eugenius  iV.  received  Francesca's  messenger  with  g-rcat 
kindness,  and  bade  him  carry  back  to  her  assurances  of 
his  fovoumble  disi>osition  towards  tlie  cong'reg-ation, 
recommending  himself  at  the  same  time  to  her  prayei'S 
and  to  those  of  her  sisters.  He  commended  the  exami- 
nation of  the  case  to  Gaspard,  Archbisliop  of  Conzn,  and 
enjoined  him  to  verify  the  fact  recited  m  the  ))etition, 
and  to  comnumicate  on  the  subject  with  the  prior  and 
the  monks  of  Santa  Mana  Nuovu;  and  if  satisfied  with 
the  result,  to  grant  the  [)rivile^s  therein  requeste*!. 
The  archbishop  applied  himself  with  diligence  to  the 
execution  of  these  orders;  and  the  original  document  in 
wliich  this  authorisation  is  recorded  still  exists  amongst 
the  archives  of  the  monastery.  It  stipulates  that  the 
Oblates  shall  be  subject  t^  the  jurisdiction  of  the  su[)erior 
and  of  the  monks  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  and  that  they 
may  continue  to  inhabit  the  house  of  Tor  di  S|>ecchi 
until  such  time  as  they  shall  have  made  purchase  of 
another.  A  short  time  af>«rwai-ds  the  Oblates,  full  of 
gratitude  and  joy  at  the  favours  which  had  been  granted 
them,  and  every  day  more  satisfied  with  their  abode, 
solicited  and  obtained  permission  to  remain  in  it  in 
perpetuity.  This  last  transaction  took  place  at  the 
very  time  when  Rome  was  given  up  to  anarchy,  and 
frightful  disorders  reigned  within  its  walls;  when  the 
pontifical  magistrates  had  been  thnist  aside,  and  furious 
demagogues  installed  in  their  places.  The  Pope  had 
taken  refiige  in  Bologna,  and  it  is  fi-om  that  town 
that  is  dated  the  last-mentioned  decree.  The  congrega- 
tion  was  successively  confirmed  by  three  of  the  genei-nU 
of  the  Olivetan  order;  and  in  1444  Eugenius  IV.  ex* 


Cll.  XII.J  ST.  PRANCES  OF  ROME. 


Ill 


I» 


tAnded   still  further  the  privileges  and  franchiMs  of 
the  Ohlates. 

Francesca  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  responsi- 
bility she  hod  iiiciirre<l  in  the  esttiblishment  of  her  con- 
g^gution,  and  felt  herself  bound  to  advance  more  and 
more  in  virtue  herself,  as  well  as  fiuther  the  piety  of 
her  spiritual  dnugiitt^rs.  During  her  visits  to  the  con- 
vent she  used  to  work  indiscriminately  in  the  kitchen 
or  in  the  parlour;  waited  at  table,  and  cleaned  the 
plates,  as  it  might  hapi)en ;  and  could  not  bear  to  be 
treated  with  the  least  distinction.  In  ooming  in,  and  in 
ffoing  away,  she  always  reverently  kissed  tlie  hand  of 
Agnese  de  Sellis  the  sujwrioress,  and  asked  for  her 
blessing.  She  sometimes  accompanied  the  sisters  t«) 
her  vineyard  near  St.  Paul  without  the  Walls,  where 
they  gathered  wood,  and  carried  it  back  to  Rome  bound 
in  faggots  for  bimiing.  She  gently  reproved  one  of 
the  Oluntcs  who,  on  one  of  these  occasions,  sought  to 
screen  her  from  observation  when  an  illustrious  person- 

rwas  i)a8sing  bv.  She  took  them  with  her  to  visit 
hospitals  and  the  poverty- houses  in  the  city;  and 
the  miraculous  cures  which  she  performed  in  their  pre- 
sence continued  their  faith,  ana  inflamed  them  with 
the  most  ardent  desire  to  imitate  her  example. 

At  the  time  that  the  misfortunes  of  Home  were  at 
their  height,  Fmncesca  ap[)eared  one  morning  at  the  mon- 
astery, and  gathering  around  her  lier  spiritual  daugh- 
ters, she  thus  addressed  them :  *^  What  shall  we  do,  my 
children  ?  The  wrath  of  God  is  warring  tierce  against 
our  unhappy  country ;  Rome  is  in  the  hands  of  cruel 
and  lawless  men ;  the  Holy  Father  in  exile ;  his  ministers 
in  prison,  his  life  souglit  after  as  if  he  were  an  odious 
oppressor,  and  we  know  not  when  to  look  for  his  return. 
Iramomlity  is  increasing,  vice  triumphant,  hell  yawning 
for  souls  which  Christ's  blood  has  redeemed,  and  tiiose 
who  ought  to  extinguish  do  but  excite  the  flame,  and 
draw  down  upon  us  the  just  judgment  of  God.  The 
lUessed  Vii^n  requires  at  our  uands  more  fervent 
prayers,  more  tears,  more  penances.    We  must  supply 


i 


i 


M 


112  fT.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 

for  the  great  dearth  of  love.  Mortifications  and  prayer 
are  the  weapons  we  are  furnished  witli ;  our  hearts  are 
the  victims  which  must  be  slain  for  men's  sins;  our 
tears  must  quench  those  unholy  Hrcs ;  we  shall  not  be 
true  Oblates  until  we  have  made  a  complete  sacrifice  of 
ourselves,  of  our  souls  and  of  our  l)odies,  to  the  Lord. 
We  are  few  ;  but  do  not  doubt  the  sti-ength  of  prayer. 
Let  us  be  fei*vent  and  persevere,  and  soon  we  shall  reap 
the  fruit  of  our  intense  supplications,  of  our  long'-con- 
tinued  pleading;  and  liberty,  peace,  and  all  God's 
blessings,  will  be  restored  to  Rome."  Francesca's  ex- 
Iiortations  had  their  efFtet,  and  the  fervent  prayers  they 
drew  forth  had  theirs  also ;  for  in  the  same  year  the 
Bishops  of  Recauntl  and  of  Turpia  ;  <^as8umed,  in  the 
Pope's  name,  possession  of  the  city ;  and  the  Romans, 
wearied  with  anarchy,  gladly  welcomed  their  rule. 

A  more  terrible  evil,  a  more  appalling'  danger  now 
threatened  not  only  Rome  but  the  whole  Catholic  world. 
Tlie  undutiful  conduct  of  the  Council  of  Basle,  with  the 
violence  of  their  language  with  regard  to  the  Holy  See, 
brought  matters  to  such  a  point  that  a  deplorable  schism 
ap[)eared  inevitable.  Pope  Eugenius  was  divided  be- 
tween the  fear  of  hurrying  it  on,  and  that  of  compi-o- 
mising  by  undue  concessions  the  legitimate  authority 
of  tlie  Chair  of  Peter.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the 
Blessed  Virgin  ap|)eared  one  night  to  Francesca,  sui^ 
rounded  by  saints  and  apostles,  sei-enely  beautiful,  and 
with  a  compassionate  expression  in  her  count4)nance. 
After  some  preliminary  spiritual  instructions,  she  inti- 
mated to  the  Saint  that  God  was  waiting  to  have  mercy, 
and  that  His  wrath  had  to  be  softened  by  assiduous 
prayers  and  good  works.  She  named  certain  religious 
exercises,  certain  penitential  practices;  which  were  to  be 
observed  on  the  principal  feasts  of  the  ensuing  year;  and 
recommending  to  the  faithful  in  general,  and  more  par- 
ticularly to  the  Oblates,  a  great  purity  of  heru-t,  a  sincere 
contrition  for  past  sin,  and  a  spirit  of  earnest  charity, 
she  charged  Francesca  to  see  that  her  orders  were  com- 
plied with;  and  disappeared  af^er  bestowing  her  blessiijgjb 


ClI.  Xf  I.J  8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROMB< 


lid 


It  was  in  vain,  however,  tliat  this  revelation  was 
communicated  by  Don  Giovanni  to  tlie  clere-y  of  Rome. 
They  rejected  it  as  the  dream  of  a  pious  ana  sickly  >vo- 
man ;  and  even  the  most  earnest  amongst  them  abso- 
lutely declined  to  attach  to  it  the  slightest  imfmrtance. 
Not  so  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  when  Francesca's  confessor 
cuiTied  to  him  at  Bologna  the  message  of  the  saint; 
he  listened  to  it  with  revei'enco  and  gi-atitude,  and  sent 
back  by  his  means  all  the  necessary  mandates  for  the 
execution  of  the  orders  which  the  lUossed  Virgin  had 
given.  When  he  anived  at  Tor  di  S})ecchi,  Francesca 
met  him ;  and  before  he  could  o])en  his  mouth,  she  gave 
him  an  exact  px;count  of  all  that  had  taken  p'ace  on  his 
journey,  and  of  the  very  words  which  the  Holy  Fathe* 
nad  used  during  their  interview.  The  Po|)e's  directions 
were  attended  to,  the  appointed  Masses  said,  the  pro- 
cessions oi^nised ;  and  in  a  short  time  it  was  seen  that 
a  favourable  result  ensuetl.  The  Pope  was  happily  in- 
spired to  convene  the  council  that  met  at  Ferrara,  and 
subsequently  continued  its  lal)ours  at  Florence.  This 
at  last  put  an  end  to  the  pretensions  of  the  illegal  as- 
sembly at  Basle,  and  the  wounds  of  the  Church  were 
gradually  healed.  There  was  but  one  opinion  at  the 
time  as  to  the  cause  of  this  favourable  change  in  the 
aspect  of  affairs.  It  was  unanimously  ascril)cd  to  the 
prayers  of  Francesca  and  to  the  Pope's  compliance  with 
the  orders  she  had  received;  and  m  the  pix)cess  of  her 
canonisiition  this  {)oint  is  treated  of  at  length,  and  sa- 
tisfactorily established ;  and  those  who  are  actpiainted 
with  the  exti'eme  caution  observed  on  these  occasions 
in  admitting  evidence  on  such  a  subject,  will  be  im- 
pressed with  the  conviction  that  she  was  used  as  an  in- 
•tmment  of  God*s  mercy  towards  His  suffering  Church* 


•  <» 


114  fT.  FRANCES  OF  ROMS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OBATa  OV  PBARCBSCa'S  husband — 8HB  OOBS  TO  EBSIDB  WITH  TBI 
OOBMCNITT  OP  TOB  Dl  SPBCCHI— HBB  LIPB  AS  SUPKBIOl 


Francesca  had  been  forty  years  married  to  J^renzo 
Poiiziano;  and  through  hor  married  life,  tiie  heart  tliut 
had  been  consecrated  to  Qod  fitim  the  first  dawn  of  ex- 
istence had  been  faithful  in  its  love  to  him  whom  God 
Himself  had  apiwinted  to  be  her  ciiief  earthly  care:  and 
blessed  had  been  the  course  of  that  union ;  blcsse<i  by 
the  tender  affection  which  had  i-ei;^ued  between  the  hus- 
band and  the  wife,  and  by  the  exercise  of  no  common 
virtues,  multiplied  by  the  piu'suits  of  one  cunuuon 
object.  Francesca  had  led  the  way;  in  meekness,  in 
humihty,  in  subjection;  but  with  a  sing-le  aim  and  an 
unwavering  pm'itose.  Many  and  sev(*re  trials  had  been 
their  portion  at  different  e|M)chs  of  tiieir  lives ;  but  the 
liitfer  {mr^  of  Lorenzo's  existence  had  l>een  compara- 
tively tranquil.  Lorenzo  was  the  first  to  bo  called 
away.  God  spared  him  the  trial  he  had  ])robubly 
dreaded.      We  seldom  are  called  upon  to  sutler  the 

|)articular  grief  that  fancy  has  dwelt  u[N)n.  His  health 
iml  been  breaking  for  some  years  past,  and  now  it 
utttn'ly  failed,  and  his  disease  assumed  an  alarming 
character.  Francesca,  though  ap|)arently  worn  out 
with  toil,  with  abstinence,  and  mentid  and  bodily  U 
buurs,  found  strength  for  every  duty,  and  enetgy  for 
every  emergency.  During  Lorenzo  s  i)rolonge(I  and 
painfiil  illness,  slie  was  always  at  his  side,  uui-i^ing  him 
with  indefatigable  tenderness,  and  eoinjiluting  the  work 
which  her  example  iiad  wrought.  His  passuge  fi-om 
life  to  eternity  api>eared  but  a  ioumey.  TIkj  e^brts  i>f 
Sattm  to  disturb  him  on  his  death-bed,  though  oflcu 
re|)eated,  were  (nich  time  frustrated.  Lorenzo  had  been 
a  just  man,  and  his  death  was  the  death  of  the  right- 
tons.     Few  men  would   have  shown   themselves  at 


en.  XIII.]  ST.  PRANCES  OF  ROMR.  lift 

Worthy  as  he  did  of  such  n  w.'fe  as  Frnncosca.  From 
the  moment  of  his  marriag-e  he  had  appreciated  her 
virtues,  rejoiced  in  her  piety,  encourag-ed  her  g-ood 
works,  and  to  a  great  extent  shared  in  them.  No  mean 
feeUngps  of  jealousy,  no  human  re8|)ect,  no  worldly 
sentiment  of  ezpeaiency  had  influenced  him.  Wlu'n 
he  saw  her  renouncing  all  the  pleasures  and  vanities  of 
the  world,  dressing*  lixe  a  poor  person,  wearing^  herself 
out  in  the  zeal  of  her  charity,  turning  the  half  of  his 
palace  into  a  hospital,  ho  did  not  complain,  but  rather 
rejoiced  that  she  was  one  of  those  "  whom  fools  have 
for  a  time  in  derision,  and  for  a  parable  of  reproacli ; 
whose  hfe  is  esteemed  madness,  and  tiieir  end  witiiout 
honour;  but  who  are  numbered  amongst  the  children  of 
God,  and  whose  lot  is  amongst  the  saints."  He  had 
his  reward;  he  had  it  when  his  sight  failed  him  and 
his  breath  ffrew  short,  when  he  felt  that  his  hour  was 
come.  He  liad  it  when  in  his  dying  ears  she  whis- 
pered words  of  peace;  and  Satan,  with  a  cry  of  despair, 
for  ever  fled  away  from  his  couch ;  and  when  the  ever- 
lasting portals  opened,  and  tlie  sentence  was  pronounced 
at  the  immediate  judgment  that  follows  deatii.    Masses, 

1)rayer8,  fervent  communions,  and  pious  suflVages  fol- 
owed  him  beyond  the  grave ;  and  when  the  saint,  who 
had  been  the  model  of  wives,  stood  by  that  grave  a 
widow,  her  eorthly  task  was,  in  one  sense,  done:  but 
work  remained ;  but  it  was  of  another  sort.  From  her 
earliest  youth  she  had  been  a  nun  in  spirit;  and  the 
lieart  which  had  sighed  for  the  cloister  in  childhof>d 
yearned  for  its  slielter  in  these  her  latter  days.  She 
must  go  and  live  in  the  shade  of  the  tAl)emao]e ;  she 
must  be  alone  with  her  Lord  during  the  few  remaining 
years  of  life.  This  must  have  been  foreseen  by  her 
children;  and  yet,  like  all  trials  of  the  kind,  however 
long  looked  forwaitl  to,  it  came  ufion  them  at  last  as 
a  surprise.  When  she  said,  "  I  must  go,"  there  was 
a  loiid  cry  of  sorrow  in  the  Ponziano  palace.  Baptistn, 
the  only  son  of  her  love,  wept  aloud.  Mobilia  threw 
herself  into  her  aims,  and,  with  impetuous  gr'ef,  pro- 


lie 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


1  *  . 


tested  affainst  her  leaving  them.  "  Are  yA\  i.nt  a'-ald 
for  me?  she  exclaimed,  "  if  you  abandon  me,  you  who 
have  tuus'ht  me  to  love  God  and  to  serve  Hi.n '{  Wlipt 
am  I  without  you  ?  Too  much,  too  tenderly  you  have 
loved  me.  It  cannot  be  that  you  shouhl  i'orsake  me. 
I  cannot  endure  existence  without  you."  Her  grand- 
children also,  whom  she  was  tenderly  attached  to,  cl^mg 
to  her,  weeping.  Moved  by  their  tf^rirs,  but  unshaken 
in  her  resolution,  she  gently  consoled  them ;  bade  them 
recollect  that  she  was  still  to  inhabit  Rome;  that  her 
affection  for  them  would  be  unchanged,  and  that  she 
would  always  be  at  hand  to  advise  and  to  aid  them ; 
but  that  her  vocation  must  now  be  fulfilled,  wad  the 
sacrifice  completed.  Then  turning  to  Mobilia,  as  to  a 
dearly-beloved  child,  she  fondly  said,  "  iJo  not  weep, 
my  daughter;  you  will  survive  me,  and  bear  witness  to 
my  memory."  This  prediction  was  fulfilled ;  for  Mo- 
bilia  was  alive  at  the  time  that  the  pi'ocess  for  Fran- 
cesca's  canonisation  was  commenced,  and  the  u:r:^t;imonj 
she  gave  to  her  virtues  and  to  her  mbmcht-  was  on 
that  occasion  most  im))ortaRt,  and  the  mv^X  detailed. 

After  this,  Franeesca  took  leave  of  har  family,  and 
went  straight  to  the  Tor  di  Sj>ecchi.  It  was  on  the 
21st  of  March,  the  festival  ot  St.  Benedict^  that  she 
entered  its  walls,  not  as  the  foundress  !>ut  m  a  humble 
suppliant  for  admission.  At  the  foot  of  tlip  f^itairs,  hav- 
ing taken  oif  her  bla^L  gown,  her  veil,  and  her  shoes, 
and  placed  a  cor" 


J 


.1 


id  her  neck,  she  knelt  dovrn, 
icissed  tht  ground^  .^n^  aedding  an  abundauce  of  tears, 
made  her  general  confession  aloud  in  tiie  presence  of 
all  the  Oblates ;  described  herself  as  a  miserable  sinner, 
a  grievous  offender  against  God,  and  asked  permission 
to  dwell  amongst  them  as  the  meanest  of  their  ser- 
vants ;  and  to  learn  from  them  to  amend  her  life,  and 
enter  u|M)n  a  holier  course.  The  spiritual  daughters  of 
Francesca  hastened  to  raise  and  to  embrace  her ;  and 
clothing  her  with  their  habit,  they  led  the  way  to  the 
cha{)el,  where  they  all  returned  thanks  to  God.  WhiU 
•he  remained  there  engaged  in  prayer,  Agnese  de  Sellii^ 


*tJ 


CH.  XIII.j  ST.  «'RANCES  0»  ROilB. 


117 


the  superioress,  assembled  the  sisters  in  the  chapter- 
room,  and  declared  to  them,  that  now  that  their  true 
mother  and  foundress  had  oome  amongst  them,  it  would 
be  absurd  for  her  to  remain  in  her  present  office  ;  that 
Francesca  was  their  guide,  their  head,  an^i  that  into  her 
hands  she  would  inst«nt!y  resign  her  authority.  They 
all  applauded  her  decision,  and  gathering'  araund  the 
Saint,  announced  to  her  tiieir  wislies.  As  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, Francesca  strenuously  refused  to  accede  to  this 
proi)osal,  and  pleaded  jier  inability  to  the  duties  of  a 
superioress.  The  Oblates  had  i-ecoui-se  to  Don  Gio- 
tanni,  who  begun  by  entreating",  and  finally  com- 
manded her  acceptance  of  the  churg'e.  His  oitlei-s  she 
never  resisted ;  and  according-ly,  on  the  ?Oth  of  March, 
she  was  duly  elected  to  that  omcc. 

She  was  favoured  with  a  virion  wliich  strengthened 
and  encouraged  her  in  tiie  new  task  she  had  before  her. 
The  ang-el  who  for  twenty-four  yeai-s  had  l)e<m  by  her 
side,  defending-  and  assisting*  her  on  all  occasions,  took 
leave  of  her  now  with  a  benigTiant  smile,  and  in  his  plut:e 
another,  more  reftdg'ent  still,  was  ordained  to  stand. 
By  day  and  by  nig'lit  he  was  continually  weaving  a 
mysterious  woof,  the  threads  of  which  seemed  to  glow 
out  of  the  mysticrl  palm  wliich  he  carried.  St.  Bene- 
dict appearea  to  Frances'^a  on  the  day  of  her  election, 
and  explained  to  her  the  meanin";  of  these  symlx)ls. 
(lold  was  the  ty|»e  of  the  love  ana  charity  which  was 
to  gt)vem  her  dealini^^  with  her  daughtei-s,  while  the 
palm  implied  the  triumjih  she  wns  to  obtain  ov«r  human 
weakness  and  human  rcsjiect.  The  uncensin'  labours  of 
the  angel  wns  lo  mark  the  unweaiied  effoi  she  was  to 
use  for  the  right  ortlering  and  spiritual  wt  ifare  of  the 
community  inti-usted  to  her  care ;  and  truly  she  la- 
boured with  indefatigable  zeal  in  her  new  vocation. 
She  had  ever  before  her  eyes  the  words  of  St.  Paul  to 
Timothy  and  to  Titus :  "  Preach  the  w  n\.  Be  patient 
in  seiuson  and  out  of  season.  Entreat,  rebuke,  in  all 
niiTience  and  tloctrine.  In  all  things  show  thyself  an 
example  of  good  works,  in  doctiine,  in  inU^rity,  in 


If 


r 


118 


BT.  PRAlfCEB  OP  ROME. 


u!  ;i)> 


pravity."  Prcachinj^  far  more  by  her  actions  than  hy 
Jier  words,  she  gtive  an  example  of  the  most  heroic  vir- 
tues. It  would  be  difficult  to  imag'ine  any  thing-  nion\ 
jierfect  than  her  life  in  the  world ;  but  the  new  duties, 
the  new  privileg-es  of  her  present  vocation  added  each 
day  new  splendour  to  her  virtues.  She  an])ointed  Agnese 
de  Sellis  iier  coadjutress,  and  Wgg'od  tier  to  share  her 
room,  and  watch  over  her  conduct,  entreating*  her  at 
the  same  time  to  warn  her  of  every  fan  t  she  miprht 
commit.  Her  sti-ictness  with  her  spiritual  children, 
thoug-h  tempered  by  love,  was  extreme.  She  never 
left  a  single  imjicrfection  uni-eproved,  and  allowed  of  no 
infractions,  however  slight,  of  tne  rule.  Sometimes,  when 
through  sliyness  or  false  shame,  they  conc>ealed  some 
tririing  offence  which  tliey  were  bound  to  confess,  she 
rend  their  hearts,  and  reminded  them  not  to  give  Satan 
a  hold  ui)on  them  by  such  reserve.  She  was  most  care- 
ful of  their  health,  and  sought  to  procure  them  as  often 
as  she  could  some  innocent  recreation.  They  usetl  occa- 
sionally to  go  with  her  to  one  or  other  of  her  vine- 
g^irdens  withotit  tho  walls,  to  take  exercise  in  the  pure 
o|)en  air.  Francesc  's  gentle  gaiety  on  these  occasions 
iucwftsed  their  enjoyment ;  and  the  labour  of  gathering 
wood  and  grass,  of  making  up  faggots,  and  cnrryini^ 
away  their  i^poil  on  their  liends  at  night,  was  a  {mrt  of 
their  anniseraent.  Tho  conversation  that  was  earned 
on  between  them  the  while  was  as  merry  as  it  was  in- 
riocent.  These  young  persons,  l)om  in  palaces  and  bred 
in  luxury,  worked  like  peasants,  with  more  than  a  pea- 
sant's lightness  of  heart. 

One  fine  sunny  January  day — and  those  who  iiave  in- 
habited Home  well  know  how  hue  a  January  day  can  be — 
Francesca  and  seven  or  eight  of  her  companions  had  beeu 
s'Hce  earl}'  dawn  in  the  vine-gardens  of  Porta  Portese. 
Taey  had  workel  hard  for  several  hours,  and  then  sud- 
df-iiy  remembered  that  they  had  brought  no  provisions 
■wr.n  them.  They  soon  became  faint  and  hungry,  and 
&h<; , e  ail  very  thirsty.  Perna,  the  younjresr  of  all  tlm 
Obiatets,  was  inirticulurly  heated  and  tiretl,  and  ap^Mruttch* 


en.  XIII.J  8T.  PUANCE9  OF  ROME.  119 

iuf^  the  Mother  Superior,  with  a  wearied  exnression  of 
countenance,  she  asked  permission  to  et>  and  arink  some 
water  at  a  fountain  some  way  olf  on  tlie  public  road. 

"  Be  |)atient,  my  child,"  Francesca  answered ;  "  the 
fountain  is  too  distort."  She  was  afraid  of  these  youn^ 
persons  drinking  cold  water,  heated  as  they  wei-e  by 
toil  and  exposure  to  the  sun.  They  went  on  with  their 
work;  and  withdrawing  aside,  Francesca  knelt  down, 
cla<;ped  her  hands,  and  with  her  eyes  raised  to  heaven, 
said,  *^  Lord  «Jesu8,  I  have  been  tnoughtless  in  bring- 
ing' my  sisters  here,  and  forgetting  to  provide  food  for 
tliem.     Help  us  in  our  need.^' 

Pema,  who  had  kejjt  near  to  the  Mother  Superior, 

1)i*obnhIv  with  the  intention  of  urging  her  renuest,  over- 
leard  rhiA  prayer,  and,  a  Httle  irritated  by  the  feverish 
thirst  she  was  enduring,  said  to  herself  with  some  im- 

{)atience,  'Mt  would  be  more  to  the  purpose  to  take  un 
lome  at  once." 

Francesca  read  the  inward  thought,  and  tuming  to 
t)ie  discontented  girl  she  said,  "  My  child,  you  do  not 
tnist  enough  in  Go<l.  Look  up  and  see."  Perna 
obeyed,  and  following  the  direction  of  Francesca's 
Imnd,  she  saw  a  vine  entwined  around  a  tree,  from 
whoso  dead  nnd  leafless  branches  were  hanging  a  num- 
ber of  the  finest  bunches  of  gra|>es,  of  that  purple  and 
burnishi'd  hue  which  the  fervid  8unlx»am8  of  August 
and  September  imimit  to  tiiat  glorious  fruit. 

"  A  miracle  !  a  miracle  !"  (;xcl:iimed  the  enraptured 
Pema;  and  the  other  Oblates  assembled  round  the 
tree  in  speechless  astonishment,  for  they  had  seen  ull 
day  tlio  bare  and  withered  branches.  Twenty  times 
at  least  they  had  passcKl  and  repassed  before  it ;  and  at 
all  events  the  season  for  grapes  had  long  gone  by. 

After  kneeling  to  give  thanks  to  God  for  this 
gracious  pi-o«ligy,  they  spread  a  cloth  on  the  grass,  and 
gnthojod  th(f  precious  fiuit.  There  were  exactly  os 
ninny  buncles  as  jiersons  pr(»sent ;  and  with  smiling 
foces  an«l  joyfiil  hesiits  Fnincescu's  children  fe<l  on  tha 
•upply  which  lier  prayer  hiul  obtained  for  them. 


^■—f^^^^^ 


k 

ft 

I 

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ill 


i. 


iitiii 


:i  « 


120 


ST.  PRANCES  OF  nOMB. 


Obedience  was  a  virtue  of  which  the  Saint  herself 
gBve  a  most  perfect  exain])Ie,  nnd  which  she  unremit- 
tingly required  of  others.  One  of  the  Oblates  havinf^ 
refused  one  day  to  comply  with  an  order  she  had  re- 
ceived, Francetica  fixed  her  eves  upon  her  with  an  ex- 
pression of  60  much  severity,  that  tlie  person  in  question 
suddenly  fainted  away,  and  remained  afterwards  speech- 
loss  and  in  a  state  of  insensibility.  The  doctors  were 
sent  for,  and  declared  that  her  life  was  in  imminent 
danger.  This  was  a  severe  trial  to  the  Saint;  she 
could  not  reproach  her&eif  for  a  severity  which  had 
been  a  matter  of  duty,  not  of  nassion,  but  at  the  same 
time  she  trembled  for  the  soul  of  one  who  had  appa- 
rently lost  the  use  of  reason  at  the  very  moment  she 
was  committing*  a  serious  fault.  After  addressing  a 
fervent  prayer  to  God,  and  invoking  the  Blessed  Vii^n, 
she  went  straight  to  the  bed-side  of  the  sister,  anil 
taking  her  by  the  hand  with  great  solemnity,  addressed 
to  lier  these  words :  **  If  it  be  true  that  our  congrega- 
tion is  approved  of  God,  and  has  His  Holy  Motner 
for  its  foundress,  in  the  name  of  Holy  Obedience,  I 
command  you  to  speak  to  me."  The  Oblate  Feemed  to 
awake  from  a  long  dream,  and  opening  her  eyes,  she 
distinctly  said,  "  Mother,  what  would  vou  have  me  to 
do?"  From  that  moment  she  rallied,  and  was  soon 
I'estored  to  health. 

Another  time,  when  nn  aged  member  of  the  con- 
gregation was  dying,  and  every  moment  expected  to  be 
ner last,  Francesca  prayed  tlmt  she  might  not  be  allowed 
to  depart  in  the  absence  of  Don  Giovanni,  the  director 
of  the  house.  Fur  six  days  and  six  nights  the  sick 
woman  lingered  between  life  and  death.  On  the  arrival 
of  her  spiritual  father  she  revived,  went  to  confession, 
and  received  the  last  Sacrament.  Then,  as  she  again 
sank  into  insensibility,  Francesca  bent  over  her  and 
said,  "  Sister  (Jatlierine,  depart  in  pence,  and  pray  for 
us ;"  nnd  in  that  instant  the  aged  woman  oxpii-ed. 

The  {)ovei'ty  of  the  eongi-epition  wjis  extreme.  The 
slender  metms  of  the  fiii't  Oblates  htui  been  exhausted 


on.  XIII.]  BT.  FUANCE8  OF  HOME. 


121 


sion, 

and 
,y  for 

The 
listed 


lu'  tho  pimrliase  of  tlio  house  and  the  erection  of  a  Rmall 
cfia{)el.  Francesca  had  indeed  made  over  to  it  her  two 
vineyards  of  Porta  Portese  and  of  St.  Paul  without  tlio 
WaHs;  hut  the  tiitiin^^  revenue  they  furnished  was  wholly 
inad(H^|uate  to  the  supirarv  of  fifteen  persons ;  and  more- 
over tlio  relipous  were  so  endued  with  tlie  spirit  of 
their  fouudi-ess,  tliut  they  never  could  hring  themselves 
to  turn  away  a  heffg^r  from  their  doors  as  long  as  tliey 
liad  a  slice  of  hread  to  l)estow.  Thev  oftijn  went  a  whole 
day  without  eatinj.-,  rather  than  deny  themselves  tie 
ha|>piness  of  feeding  the  poor.  Finnccscn,  ha|)py  in  tiio 
virtues  of  her  chihiren,  out  tenderly  anxious  for  their 
welfare,  was  indefatigable  in  her  eiforts  to  procure  them 
the  necessaries  of  lite.  She  used  on  these  occasions  to 
beg  of  her  relations,  or  even  of  strangei-s ;  and  Almighty 
God  alloweil  her  sometimes  to  provide  for  them  in  a 
miracu*' as  manner. 

One  day  that  the  sister  whose  turn  it  was  to  attend 
to  the  victualling  department  found  herself  imable  to 
jnit  u|X)n  the  table  any  thing  but  two  or  three  small 
fragments  of  bread,  she  went  to  consult  the  Saint,  who 
immediately  pro|M)sed  to  go  out  with  her  and  beg.  Ac- 
cording to  her  invnriable  custom,  she  asked  Agnese  de 
Sellis,  her  coadjutoress,  for  permission  so  to  do.  Contrary 
to  her  habit  on  such  occasions,  Agnese  refused,  and  said, 
that  if  it  was  necessary  for  any  one  to  beg,  she,  with 
another  of  the  sistei-s,  would  undertake  it.  J'hen  Fran- 
cesca, after  a  moment's  thiught,  replied,  ''  J  think  that 
(>od  will  provide  for  us  without  any  one  goiifg  out  of 
the  house ;"  and  calling  the  Oblates  to  the  refectory, 
she  asked  a  blessing  on  the  bread,  and  distrdjuted  it  m 
minute  portions  amoigst  them.  Each  on  ))eginning  to 
eat  her  share,  saw  it  multiply  apace;  and  not  only  were 
their  wants  thus  supplied  at  the  moment,  but  enough 
remained  when  they  had  done  to  furnish  them  with 
food  for  the  next  day. 

The  gift  of  propliocy  she  also  exercised  more  fre- 
quently tlian  ever  at  tins  ])criod.  Once,  whon  she  waa 
praying  in  her  cell,  the  nuus  heard  her  er'^laim,  '*0 


t!' 


129 


8T.  PRAMCEft  OP  ROMS. 


Kin^  of  Heaven,  support  and  comfort  that  poor  nnlmp,  y 
motner;'*  and  some  hours  aftcrwunls,  they  heard  ttiat 
at  that  very  moment  a  young  noblt* niun,  Jacobo  Mad- 
ilaleni,  had  been  thrown  from  his  hon>e  and  killed  on 
tlie  spot,  to  the  inexpressible  grief  of  his  mother.  Lo- 
renzo Altieri  was  dying,  and  his  wife  Palozza  over- 
whelmed with  sorrow ;  she  had  several  young  children, 
and  was  almost  in  despair  at  tlie  idea  oflosing  her  hus- 
band. Tlie  physician  had  declared  his  case  hopeless; 
and  when  she  sent  for  Francosca  her  heart  was  breaking. 
The  Suint  euine  up  to  her,  and  said  coinjiossionateiy, 
"  Dear  sister,  give  up  the  love  and  the  vanities  of  the 
world,  and  Gouwill  take  pity  u|)on  you.  Loi-enzo  will 
yet  recover;  he  will  be  present  ut  my  burial."  The 
]irediction  was  fulfilled,  and  Lorenzo,  restoieil  to  health, 
assisted,  as  she  hud  said,  at  the  funeral  of  the  Saint ;  and 
Palozza,  whose  honrt  hnd  been  entirely  converted  at 
thrt  moment,  and  who  had  vowe<l  in  case  of  his  death 
to  retire  into  a  convent,  whenever  her  children  could 
spare  her,  UkI  henceforwurd,  in  every  respect,  the  life  of 
a  Christian  wife  and  mother. 

The  Superioret^s  of  the  Sisters  of  the  third  order  of 
St.  Francis  consulted  her  one  day  on  the  aiimission  of 
a  young  girl,  who  had  requested  to  be  admitted  among 
them.  Francesca  had  not  seen  or  known  any  thing  of 
the  candidate,  but  unhesitatingly  answered,  that  the 
vocation  was  not  a  real  one,  and  slie  recommended  that 
■he  should  be  refused.  '^  She  will  enter  another  monas- 
tery," slie  added,  "  and  afler  remaining  in  it  a  short 
time,  will  return  to  tlio  world,  and  soon  after  she  will 
^e."  It  happened  exactly  as  the  Saint  had  foretold : 
Francesca  da  Fabrica  went  into  the  convent  of  Casa  di 
Cento  Finestre,  on  the  shores  of  the  Tiber,  gave  up  tlie 
liabit  hefore  the  end  of  the  year,  and  a  sharp  fever  car- 
ried her  oif  soon  after  her  return.  Qregorio  and  Gen- 
tilesca  Selli  had  a  little  girl  of  four  years  old,  who  was 
paralysed,  and  up  to  her  waist  her  frame  ap{)eared  com- 
pletely withered.  They  hud  filen  been  urged  to  hava 
rvcourse  to  th?  spells  or  charms  then  so  miicli  in  vogiM^ 


CII.  XIII. 


8T.  PRANC8S  OP  ROME. 


i«3 


but  had  always  refiised  to  seek  a  bletwing'  tliroiiprK  mtch 
mean!).  They  were  carrying*  the  httle  child  to  Franrcuca^ 
full  of  fuith  in  her  nrayers,  which  they  were  coining  to 
vuaky  when  she  exciaimed  at  the  first  sif^ht  of  them : 
**  Happy  are  you  who  have  not  8ou;;^ht  your  child's 
recovery  in  unlawful  ways.  In  threo  days,  my  friends, 
idle  will  lie  restored  to  health ;  '*  and  the  prediction  was 
fulfilled  to  the  letter. 

It  would  be  useless  to  midtiply  such  recitals  as  these. 
As  she  advances  in  years,  esjxicially  since  her  retire- 
ment at  Tor  (ii  Specchi,  more  and  mora  fiv(|uent  Uteome 
the  exercise  of  tliose  supernatural  ait'ta  with  whicii 
(lod  had  endowed  the  gentle  Saint  ot  liome.  No  day 
ela|>8es  that  some  new  prodigy  does  not  ctUl  forth  the 
grateful  enthusiasm  of  the  warin-heurti'd  and  devout 
Trasteverini.  If  a  cliild  is  trodden  midur  f(M)t  by  a 
runaway  horse,  Francesca  is  sent  for,  and  at  the  sig>ht 
of  the  l^int  he  revives.  If  a  young  Iniutman,  in  the  prime 
of  youth,  is  thrown  into  the  Til)er,  and  curried  away  by 
the  stream  under  the  arches  of  the  Ponte  Rotto,  from 
whence  his  afflicted  mother  receives  him  into  hev  arms 
without  a  symptom  of  life,  she  calls  out  to  her  friends, 
"  Run,  run  to  the  servant  of  (Jod :  gt)  to  Francesca 
dei  Ponaano,  and  bid  her  pray  for  the  boy."  And 
when  they  i«tum,  the  mother  is  weeping  still  over  her 
apparently  lifeless  child ;  but  they  shout  from  a  dis- 
tance, ''The  seiTant  of  God  says  he  will  not  die;"  and 
in  a  few  instants,  Paul  Guidolini  opens  his  eyes,  and 
smiles  on  his  mother,  who  some  years  lat«r  becomes 
one  of  the  Oblates  of  Tor  di  Specchi.  If  Francesca  sits 
down  for  a  moment  to  rest  on  the  steps  of  a  church, 
as  she  did  one  Good  Friday,  after  the  service  at  St. 
Peter's,  a  paralytic  woman  kneels  at  her  feet,  and 
obtains  that  she  should  lay  her  hand  on  her  withered 
limbs,  which  are  instantly  restored.  There  is  no  illness 
on  record  which  her  prayers,  or  the  touch  of  her  hand, 
does  not  dispel  and  sulKlue.  Sho  i-estorrs  sight  to  the 
blind,  the  numb  8|)eak,  the  deaf  hear,  tiie  lame  walk 
at  hfBt  bidding^;  {wstileuce  and  madness  and  fits  auii 


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33     ^T  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSM 

(716)  •73-4503 


124 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  AOMB. 


wounds  and  possession  itself  disappear  before  the  powpt 
with  which  Almighty  God  has  endued  her;  and  she 
walks  this  earth  of  oui-s  dispensing-  blessings,  as  the 
faithful  handmaid  of  Him  who  went  about  doicg^ 
good. 

At  the  same  time,  more  and  more  ecstatic  grew  her 
prayers,  more  visible  to  all  eyes  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  her  soul,  more  removed  ii'om  the  natui-al  con- 
ditions of  existence  the  tenour  of  her  life.  At  the  houi-s 
of  meals,  which  she  observed  in  obedience  to  the  rule,  her 
companions  notice  that  she  hardly  ever  eats,  but  that 
her  face  is  turned  to  the  window,  and  her  eyes  £xed  on 
the  sky,  while  rays  of  light  seem  to  play  around  her, 
and  her  countenance  grows  dazzling  from  the  celestial 
brightness  which  overspreads  it.  Longer  and  longer 
became  her  orisons ;  often  in  visiting  a  church  she  falls 
into  an  ecstasy,  which  lasts  till  night.  The  sublimity 
of  her  vision,  the  glimpses  of  heaven  which  she  en- 
joys, the  sight  of  angels,  and  of  the  Lord  of  angels,  is 
occasionally  exchanged  for  the  terrific  apparitions,  the 
rsnewed  assaults  of  Satan,  who  attack  her  at  times  with 
redoubled  violence,  now  that  her  ultimate  triumph  is  at 
hand,  and  the  crown  ?,bout  to  descend  on  a  brow  which 
already  shines  with  the  mystic  radiance  of  sanctity. 
The  old  frescoes  of  the  original  chapel  of  Tor  di  Specchi 
represent  some  of  these  mysterious  struggles  between 
Fitmcesca  and  the  Evil  One;  and  her  cell  bears  the  im- 
press of  that  strange  violence  which  Satan  is  permitted 
to  exercise  at  certain  moments,  and  which  is  the  type 
of  the  warfare  which  is  ever  waged  between  him  and 
God's  Church.  He  can  shake  it  at  times  by  the  storms 
he  raises;  bat  vain  are  his  attempts  to  overthrow  it. 
The  mark  of  Satan^s  fury  is  stamped  on  the  roof  of 
Francesca's  lowly  cell;  but  the  reUcs  of  the  canonised 
Saint  now  fill  the  chamber  which,  in  his  impotent  rage, 
the  tempter  once  sought  to  destroy.  But  this  life  of 
wonders,  of  trials,  and  of  miracles,  was  drawing  to  a 
close.  She  who  had  been  the  holiest  of  maidens,  of 
wives,  and  of  widows,  had  all  but  finished  Ltr  course^ 


CH.  XIII.]  ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROlfB. 


125 


a 
of 


and  many  were  the  intimatioiis  she  received  of  her 
approaching  end. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  she  selected  one  of  the 
chapels  in  Santa  Maria  Nuova  as  a  place  of  sepulture 
for  the  Ohlates,  and  obtained  from  the  Olivetan  Monks 
that  it  should  be  reserved  for  that  purpose.  She  often 
spoke  of  her  death  to  the  sisters,  and  told  Rita,  one  of 
the  companions  of  her  youth,  that  she  would  succeed  her 
in  the  government  of  the  congregation.  Don  Ippolito, 
(me  of  her  coadjutors  in  the  foun<uttion  of  the  order,  had 
often  implored  two  favours  of  her,  that  she  would  look 
upon  him  as  her  spiritual  son,  and  ^at  she  would  sum- 
mon him  to  her  death-bed.  She  assured  him  that  the 
prayers  of  such  a  worthless  sinner  as  herself  were  not 
deserving  of  a  thought;  but,  moved  by  his  impor- 
tunities, she  promised  in  the  end  to  comply  with  his 
remiest.  Accoi*dingly,  towwds  the  end  of  the  year 
1439,  when  he  was  in  Siemia  on  business,  he  received 
a  letter  fi-om  Fmncesca,  in  which  she  reminded  him  of 
his  desire  to  be  present  t^t  her  last  moments,  and  in 
consequence  exhorted  him  to  conclude  his  affiurs,  and 
return  to  Rome  as  soon  as  possible,  which  he  accord- 
ingly did.  On  Christmas-day  and  on  the  Feast  of  St. 
Stepiien  she  had  visions  of  the  Blessed  Vii^in  and  of 
the  infant  Jesus,  which  she  communicated  to  Don  Ip 
polito  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  where  she 
had  gone  on  her  way  back  from  San  Lorenzo  without 
the  Walls  and  St.  Jonn  of  Lateran,  which  she  had  suc- 
cessively visited.  The  religious  said  to  her  with  emo- 
tion :  ^'  Mother,  yoii  will  now  grant  me  the  favour  I 
have  so  oft«n  asked  of  you." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Saint,  who  had  been  all  day  in 
a  kind  of  ecstasy,  though  she  moved  from  one  place  to 
another;  "  yes;  I  look  upon  you  now  as  my  fSather, 
as  my  brother,  and  as  my  son."  And  so  saying  she 
left  him,  and  returned  to  Tor  di  Specchi,  still  absorbed 
in  contemplation. 

Don  Ipi)olito  followed  her  with  his  eyes  till  she  had 
disappeared  from  liis  sight,  and  joy  and  sorrow  were 


190 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROMK. 


strugfglinff  in  his  lieart ;  for  he  felt  that  the  time  wni 
oome  for  her  great  gain  and  her  children's  unspeakahle 
loas. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FRANCISOa'b  LAIT  ILLNOt  AND  DBATR. 

Francesca  was  fifljjr-six  years  old.  Her  frame,  woni 
out  witli  lahour,  with  fastings,  and  austerities,  was 
enfeebled  also  by  frequent  illnesses;  but  her  activity, 
her  indomitable  energy,  was  still  the  same.  She  never 
flag'geil,  never  weariM,  never  gave  way  under  the  pres* 
sure  of  physical  or  moral  sufferings.  It  was  probably 
a  trial  of  the  latter  description,  one  which  she  had 
always  been  keenly  alive  to,  that  hurried  her  end. 

A  fresh  schism  broke  out  in  the  Church,  to  the 
scandal  and  grief  of  all  the  faithfiil.  The  refhustorj 
bisho|M  assembled  at  Basle,  ventured  to  decree  the 
de|X)sition  of  Pope  Eugenius,  and  to  elect  as  anti-pope 
the  aged  Amadeus,  Duke  of  'l\iscany,  who  had  abiii- 
cated  in  favour  of  his  son,  and  was  living  as  a  hermit 
on  the  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  The  usurper  took 
the  name  of  Felix  V.,  and  this  unhappy  schism  lasted 
ten  years.  Francesca  turaed  to  heaven  her  weary  eyes 
— she  besought  her  Lord  to  take  her  nway  from  this 
scene  of  trial :  too  keenly  did  she  feel  the  woes  of  the 
Church;  too  deeply  did  she  sorrow  over  these  renewed 
conflicts,  and  the  consequent  dangers  to  which  the  souls 
of  Christians  were  exposed.  Perhaps  it  was  given  to 
her  in  that  hour  to  foresee  tlie  feoniil  storm  that  was 
lowering  over  the  Church, — tlie  monster  heresy  that, 
in  less  than  a  century,  was  to  rise  against  the  Idfystical 
Bride  of  Christ,  and  rob  her  of  her  children. 

On  tlte  dd  of  March,  1440,  Francesca  was  sent  for 
by  her  son  Baptista,  who  was  laid  up  with  a  sharp  at- 
tack of  fever.  She  instantly  obeyed  the  summons ;  and, 
on  arriving  at  the  Ponsiano  palace,  found  him  already 


en.  XI V.J  fiT.  FRANCES  OF  ROalR. 


117 


much  better,  and  able  to  leave  his  Ixtd ;  but,  at  the  ear- 
nest request  of  ttie  whole  family,  she  agreed  u>  spend 
the  whole  day  with,  them,  the  Oblate  Aug^stina,  who 
had  aeeomponied  her,  also  remaining;  to  return  with  her 
at  nifi'ht.  Toward?  evening'  she  f^reiw  so  weak  that  she 
coulu  hardly  stand;  and  Baptista  and  Mobilia  implored 
hor  to  stay  at  the  }>alaee,  or  else  to  let  herself  be  carried 
in  a  litter  to  tlie  convent ;  but  site  persisted  in  setting 
out  on  foot.  Stopping  on  her  way  at  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  in  Trastevere,  site  went  in  to  ask,  for  the 
last  time,  her  spiritual  father's  blessing,  and  found  Don 
Giovanni  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Angels — that  spot  where 
she  had  so  oflen  been  favoured  with  divine  revelations. 
As  he  was  inquiring  after  Baptista,  be  was  struck  with 
the  more  than  habitual  paleness  of  her  face,  and  the 
evident  exhaustion  she  was  labouring  under,  and  com- 
manded her,  as  a  matter  of  obedience,  instantly  to  return 
to  the  Ponziaao  Palace,  and  to  spend  the  night  there. 
This  order  was  a  severe  trial  to  Franeesea,  for  she  felt 
at  once  that  if  she  was  not  now  to  return  to  Tor  di 
Speoohi.  she  would  never  again  enter  those  hallowed 
walls;  but,  faithful  to  the  spirit  of  perfect  obedience, 
she  meekly  bowed  her  head  in  token  of  submission,  and 
^ent  baek  to  lier  son's  house. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  a  virulent  fever  came  on, 
and  in  the  morning  she  was  as  ill  as  possible.  Fran- 
cesca's  first  care  was  to  send  for  her  director,  and  to 
request  him  to  apprise  her  spiritual  daughters  of  her 
illness.  Four  of  tiiem  (Agnese,  Rita,  Catherina,  and 
Anastasio,)  hurried  to  her  side ;  and  when  they  heard 
her  entreat  Don  Giovanni  not  to  omit  any  of  the  neces- 
sary precautions  for  her  soul's  welfare,  they  all  burst 
into  tears,  uid  seemed  at  once  to  understana  that  their 
neloved  mother  was  about  to  leave  them.  Francesca 
gently  consoled  them,  and  dismissed  them  towards  the 
evening,  only  keeping  with  her  Augustina,  who  watched 
ner  during  the  night,  rnd  witnessed  the  ecstasy  durins 
which  the  following  vision  was  vouchsafed  to  the  suf- 
ferer :— Our  Lord  appeared,  surrounded  with  angels  amA 


128 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


with  saints,  and  announced  to  her  that  in  seven  days 
she  would  die,  and  receive  the  ck'own  which  was  pi-e- 
pared  for  her  in  heaven.  Sister  Augustina  saw  her  face 
shining  with  supernatural  brightness ;  a  radiant  smile 
playing  on  her  lips,  and  hi^ara  her  say  with  ineffable 
unction :  "  Be  Thou  eternally  praised  and  blessed,  O 
my  dear  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  Thanks  be  to  Thee  for  the 
unmerited  favom^  I  have  received  at  Thy  hands.  To 
Thee,  to  Thee  alone,  do  I  owe  all  the  blessings  I  have, 
and  have  yet  fco  i*eceive."  When  Don  Giovanni  saw 
her  afterwards,  he  imagined  she  was  rullyinof ;  but  she 
related  to  liim  her  vision,  and  bade  him  tell  her  daugh- 
ters that  her  end  was  approaching.  Their  tears  and 
their  sobs  choked  their  utterance ;  and  the  Saint  gently 
reproved  that  excess  of  sorrow,  and  bade  them  rejoice 
with  her,  and  bless  the  Divine  goodness  for  the  great 
mercy  that  was  shown  to  her.  During  the  next  two 
days  she  suffered  much ;  but  no  woi-d  or  sound  of  com- 
plaint  escaped  her.  Her  face  was  as  serene  as  if  her 
Dody  had  been  perfectly  free  from  pain ;  and  to  those 
who  expressed  a  hope  that  she  would  yet  recover,  she 
only  answered  with  a  sweet  smile,  ''  God  be  praised, 
my  pilg^mage  viiLl  end  from  Wednesday  to  Thursday 
next."  She  asked  for  the  Sacraments,  confessed,  went 
to  commimion,  and  received  Extreme  Unction.  Ardent 
ejaculatory  prayers,  devout  aspirations,  burning  expres- 
sions of  love,  were  ever  rising  from  her  hefut  to  her 
lips.  Each  day  she  repeated,  as  if  she  had  been  in  per- 
fect health,  the  Office  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  Rosary, 
and  all  her  usual  prayers.  The  Oblates  watched  by  her 
in  turns,  and  Mobilia  hardlv  ever  left  her  side ;  so  that 
the  smallest  particulars  of  that  wonderful  death-bed 
were  carefully  recorded.  Francesca  allowed  all  those 
who  wished  to  see  her  to  come  in.  She  had  words  of 
advice,  of  warning,  and  of  consolation  for  all. 

When  the  news  of  her  Ulness  was  spread  in  Rome, 
the  heart  of  the  g^at  city  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths, 
and  a  moumfiil,  anxious,  loving  multitude  beset  the 
palace  and  the  very  bed  of  the  dying  Saint.    Nowise 


CH.  XIV.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


129 


disturbed  or  annoyed  at  this  oppressive  testimony  of 
their  affection,  she  had  a  smile,  or  a  look,  or  a  kind 
woimI  for  each.  No  cloud  obscured  her  undei-standing^ ; 
no  irritability  affected  her  temper.  Peace  was  within 
and  around  her,  and  heaven's  own  calm  on  her  brow 
and  in  her  heart.  The  evil  spirits,  the  arch-enemy  him- 
self— who,  for  her  sanctiiication  and  the  glory  of  God, 
had  been  permitted  so  often  to  haimt  her  path  and 
assault  her  during*  life — are  banished  now,  and  stand  at 
bay,  gBzing,  no  doubt,  irom  afar,  with  envious  rage,  on 
that  peace  which  they  may  no  longer  mar.  Don  Gio- 
vanm,  who  had  known  so  well  her  former  ti-ials,  often 
inquired,  during  her  last  illness,  if  Satan*s  ministers 
were  molesting  her.  "  No,"  she  would  answer,  with  a 
smile ;  **  I  see  them  no  more.  God  has  conquered ;  His 
foes  have  fled.*'  But  the  bright  archangel,  whose  task 
is  nearly  at  an  end,  is  still  at  his  post ;  he  weaves  the 
last  threads  of  the  mystic  woof,  and  seems  to  make 
haste  to  iinish  his  work.  The  halo  of  Hght  which  sur- 
rounds him  grows  brighter  and  bn^hter,  and  Fran 
cesca's  dying  form  reflects  that  splendour. 

On  the  Monday  morning  she  is  still  in  the  same 
state.  Glorious  visions  pass  before  her ;  divine  forms 
bend  over  her,  and  whisper  words  of  welcome.  During 
Mass,  which  her  confessor  says  in  her  room,  the  Lord 
Himself  appeai-s  to  her  again;  and  from  the  consecrated 
Host  He  speaks  to  her  entranced  soul.  The  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  angels  surround  her,  and  the  voices  of 
the  blest  make  sweet  music  in  her  ears.  Late  on  that 
day,  when  her  ecstasy  was  over,  the  weeping  Oblates 
surround  her  bed,  and  with  suppliant  accents  imploi'e 
her  to  ask  of  God  yet  to  leave  her  upon  eai*th,  for  the 
sake  of  the  souls  intrusted  to  her  care.  It  was  a  hard 
request:  to  have  had  a  glimpse  of  heaven,  and  to  tura 
back;  to  have  tasted  the  cup  of  celestial  bliss,  and  to 
draw  back  from  its  sweetness !  Full  of  love,  of  pity,  of 
resignation,  of  holy  indifference,  she  exclaims :  '^  God's 
will  is  my  will ;  His  good  pleasure  mine.  If  He  chooses 


130 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROMK. 


i 


me  to  tarry  ^et  on  earth,  so  be  it  then.  I  am  readr  to 
remain  in  this  miserable  world,  if  He  commands  it. 

But  it  was  not  oi-dained.  The  next  day  she  grew 
rapidly  worse,  and  from  that  time  slept  not  again.  '*  I 
shall  soon  rest  in  God,"  she  replied  to  those  who  were 
ui^ing  her  to  repose.  The  Oblates  once  more  kneel 
around  her  to  receive  her  last  instructions:  one  of  them 
alone,  Francesca  dei  Veruli,  is  kept  away  by  a  severe 
illness,  which  confines  her  to  her  bed.  Touching  were 
the  last  words  of  the  dying  mother  to  her  spiritual 
children ;  sweet;  the  word^  of  blessing  she  pronounced 
on  their  heads.  Lovey  IovBj  was  the  burden  of  her 
teaching,  as  it  had  been  that  of  the  beloved  disciple. 
**  Love  one  another  (she  said),  and  be  faithful  unto 
death.  Satan  will  assault  you,  as  he  has  assaulted  me; 
but  be  not  afraid.  You  wul  overcome  him  through  pa- 
tience and  obedience;  and  no  trial  will  be  too  grievous, 
if  you  are  united  to  Jesus ;  if  you  walk  in  His  ways, 
He  will  be  T  ^  you."  Then  with  earnest  accents  she 
thanked  Dc  •  •)vr:,nni,  in  her  own  name  and  in  that 
of  the  order,  .^r  all  he  had  done  to  them;  and  com- 
mended the  Oblates  to  his  fatherly  care. 

At  that  moment  her  son  Baptista  entered  the  T'^ym, 
His  mother  sat  up  in  the  bed,  and  gazing  upon  him 
with  an  expression  of  anxious  scrutiny,  she  said :  "  Ana 
can  it  be  tnat  you  quarrel  wiiih  poor  shepherds?  And 
do  you  rob  God.  of  His  glory  by  unlawful  dealings  with 
hell  ?"  The  persons  who  were  standing  around  the  bed 
looked  at  each  other  in  surprise,  and  imagined  that 
Francesca  was  delirious;  but  Baptista's  countenance 
and  actions  soon  undeceived  them.  Tears  rushed  into 
his  ey^,  and  with  great  emotion  he  publicly  acknow- 
ledged that  he  had  been  guilty  of  strikmg,  in  his  anger, 
some  peasants  who  had  injured  his  fields,  and  had  gone 
to  consult  in  secret  one  of  the  persons  who  dealt  in 
occult  sciences,  as  to  the  possibility  of  his  mother's  re- 
covery. No  one  but  himself  knew  of  his  twofold  sin ; 
and  the  rebuke  of  the  dyhig  Saint  came  upon  him  as  « 


CH.  XV.] 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  RC  MB 


131 


direct  reproof  from  God,  and  an  awfiil  warning  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  As  the  day  advanced,  Francesca  grew 
weaker  and  weaker ;  but  the  flame  of  love  was  buraing 
more  brightly,  as  that  of  life  was  waning.  **  What  are 
you  saying  ?  asked  Don  Giovanni  at  one  moment,  on 
seeing  ner  lips  move.  "  The  Vespei-s  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,"  she  answered  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice.  As 
an  mfant  almost  she  had  begun  that  piuctice ;  and  on 
the  eve  of  her  death  she  had  not  yet  omitted  it  On 
the  seventh  day  of  her  ilLiess,  as  she  had  herself  an- 
nounced, her  lire  came  to  a  close.  A  sublime  expres- 
sion aniinated  her  face ;  a  more  ethereal  beauty  clothed 
her  earthly  form.  Her  confessor  for  the  last  time  in- 
quires what  it  is  her  enraptured  eyes  behold,  and  she 
whispers,  "The  heavens  open!  llie  angels  descend! 
The  archangel  has  finished  his  task.  He  stands  before 
me.  He  beckons  to  me  to  follov/  him."  These  are  the 
last  words  that  Francesca  utteirs ;  a  smile  of  indescri- 
bable brightness  beams  irom  her  face.  The  eyes  that 
have  so  long  been  closed  to  the  vanities  of  life  are  now 
closed  in  death,  and  her  spirit  has  taken  its  final  leave 
of  earth. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

F&AMCESCA*S  FDNKRAL,  AND  HKH  SUBSEQUENT  CANONISAriON. 

The  body  of  the  Saint  remained  during  a  night  and  a 
day  at  the  Ponziano  palace,  the  Oblates  watching  by 
turns  over  the  beloved  remains.  Their  grief  was  tem- 
pered with  joy,  for  they  felt  she  was  in  heaven;  though 
the  pang  of  separation  was  keen,  and  their  home  on 
earth  desolate.  Don  Giovanni,  Don  Ippolito,  and  Don 
Francesco  dello  Schiano  recited  the  prayei-s  of  the  Church 
over  the  corpse;  and  though  deeply  affected  themselves, 
strove  to  console  the  bereavea  sisterhood,  chiefly  by 
extolling  the  rare  merits  and  the  heroic  virtues  of  theur 
departed  mother.     Almighty  God  vouchsafed,  even 


192 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


during  the  fii'st  nig^lit  of  their  loving  watch,  to  give 
them  a  proof  of  thut  sanctity  which  was  so  soon  to  he 
triumphantly  demonstrated.  Sister  Margaret,  of  the 
third  order  of  St.  Frances,  had  heen  present  at  Fran- 
cesca's  death,  and  remained  by  her  side  during  the 
night  that  followed.  Her  arm  Lad  been  paralys^  for 
six  months,  and  to  all  appearance  withered.  Inspired 
with  a  lively  faith,  she  touched  the  body  of  the  Saint, 
and  was  instantaneously  cured.  The  Oblates  all  fell 
on  their  knees  at  the  sight  of  this  miracle,  and  blessed 
God  for  the  earnest  He  thus  gave  of  the  wonders  which 
Francesca's  intercession  was  to  accomplish.  Each 
moment  they  wei-e  confiimed  in  the  blessed  assurance 
of  her  inmiediate  admission  into  heaven ;  each  moment 
brought  with  it  a  new  occasion  for  joyful  exultation. 
The  sweet  perfume,  the  "  odour  of  sanctity,"  which  ex- 
pression is  so  often  supposed  to  be  simply  metaphorical, 
whereas  it  often  indicates  an  actual  physical  and  mira- 
culous fact,  soon  pervaded  the  room  and  filled  it  with 
fragrance.  Francesca's  face,  which  had  recently  borne 
the  traces  of  age  and  of  suffering,  became  as  beautiftU 
again  as  in  the  days  of  youth  and  prosperity;  and  the 
astonished  bystanders  gazed  with  wonder  and  awe  at 
that  unearthly  loveliness.  Many  of  them  earned  away 
particles  from  her  clothes,  and  employed  them  for  the 
cure  of  several  persons  who  had  been  considered  beyond 
the  possibility  of  recovery.  In  the  com-se  of  the  day, 
the  crowd  augmented  to  a  degree  which  alarmed  the 
inhabitants  of  the  palace,  and  Baptista  took  measures 
to  have  the  body  removed  at  once  to  the  church  ^  and 
a  procession  of  the  regular  and  secular  clergy  escorted 
the  venerated  remains  to  Santa  Maiia  Nuova,  where 
they  were  to  be  interred 

The  popular  feelmg  t)urst  forth  on  the  occasion ;  it 
was  no  longer  to  be  restrained :  a  sort  of  pious  insm*- 
rection,  wliich  the  Chm-ch  smiles  upon,  even  though  it 
refuses  to  sanction  it ;  as  a  mother  can  scarcely  rebuke 
a  somewhat  irregular  action  in  one  of  her  children 
when  it  springs  ii'om  a  generous  feeling,  even  though 


CH.  XV.J 


ST.  FRANCES  OP  ROMS. 


13J 


she  feels  herself  bound  to  check  it.  "  Francesca  was  a 
saint — Francesca  was  in  heaven."  Francesca  v^as  in- 
voked by  the  crowd,  and  her  beloved  name  was  heard 
in  every  street,  in  every  piazza,  in  every  comer  of  the 
Btemal  City.  It  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth ;  it  seemed 
to  float  in  the  air,  to  be  borne  aloft  by  the  g-rateful 
enthusiasm  of  a  whole  people,  who  had  seen  her  walk 
to  that  church  by  her  mother's  side  in  her  holy  child- 
hood; who  had  seen  her  kneel  at  that  altar  in  the  grave 
beauty  of  womanhood,  in  the  hour  of  bereavement,  and 
now  in  death ;  carried  thither  in  state,  she  the  gentle, 
the  humble  Saint  of  Rome,  the  poor  woman  of  the 
Trastevere,  as  she  was  sometimes  called  at  her  own 
desire. 

Francesca  dei  Veruli,  the  Obhtte  whom  illness  had 
detained  from  the  death-bed  of  her  beloved  mother, 
bears  from  her  sick-room  the  confused  hum  of  voices, 
the  sound  orhurryin^feet,  which  indicate  the  approach 
of  the  procession.     Full  of  faith,  she  starts  up,  and 
with  clasped  hands  exclaims,  ''Oh,  my  mother!  oh, 
Francesca !  I  have  not  seen  you  die ;  I  have  not  re- 
ceived juur  last  blessing;  obtain  for  me  now  that  I 
may  visit  your  remains.      With  a  violent  eflbi't,  and 
leaning  on  one  of  her  sisters,  she  contrives  to  i  ise  and 
to  make  her  way  to  the  bier.    The  very  instant  she  has 
touched  it,  her  health  and  strength  return.   Meanwhile 
the  crowd  aunnents,  and  hurries  into  the  church.  They 
press  round  the  precious  body ;  they  refuse  to  let  it  lie 
buried.    As  a  favour,  as  a  boon  of  the  greatest  price, 
they  obtain  that  the  obsequies  be  put  off  to  the  Satur- 
day; and  in  the  meantime,  day  and  night,  there  is 
no  limit  to  the  concourse  of  people  that  assemble  in  the 
chapel.     Stm  the  saintly  body  exhales  its  perfiime; 
still  the  sweet  features  retain  their  beauty ;  and  to  that 
spot,  in  an  apparently  never-ending  succession,  come 
tne  bUnd,  and  the  lame,  and  the  halt,  and  the  sick,  and 
the  suflering;  and  each  of  those  who  touch  the  bier,  or 
to  whom  is  carried  something  that  has  belonged  to 
IVancesca,  id  instantaneously  cured.    Truly  God  waa 


134 


8T.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


wonderful  in  this  His  Saint,  and  wonderful  are  tha 
details  of  the  miracles  wrought  during^  those  days; 
and  not  only  were  the  ills  of  tne  body  relieved  by  con- 
tact with  the  holy  corpse,  but  grace  reaches  the  souls 
of  many  who  have  been  hitherto  steeled  against  its 
entrance. 

Amongst  others,  two  young  men  of  dissolute  lives 
and  irreligious  spirits,  on  hearing  of  the  miracles  at 
Santa  Maria  Nuova,  heap m  to  jeer  and  laugh  on  the  sub- 
ject,  and,  moved  only  by  cunosity,  go  to  the  church, 
approach  the  bier  with  mock  demonstrations  of  respect. 
But  no  sooner  have  they  knelt  before  it,  than  their  hearts 
are  simultaneously  touched;  a  sudden  change  comes 
over  them.  Having  come  to  scoif,  they  remain  to  pray, 
— ^they  rise  from  their  knees  only  to  seek  a  confessor; 
and  return  home  that  ni^ht  converted  to  God,  and  ever 
after  lead  the  hves  of  pious  Christians.  The  mhracles 
wrought  before  and  after  Francesoa's  burial  are  so  mul- 
tifiuious,  that  it  might  be  tedious  (a  strange  word  to 
use  on  such  an  occasion,  but  nevertheless  correct)  to 
attempt  to  relate  them  all.  Great  was  the  moral  effect 
of  this  singular  outpouring  of  God's  powers  through 
His  servant.  Faith  grew  mora  timid,  and  hope  mora 
strong;  charity  burned  in  the  hearts  of  many  with  an 
ever-mcreasing  fervour;  and  the  examples  which  the 
Saint  had  given,  and  which  were  now  dwelt  upon  with 
affectionate  veneration,  induced  many  to  walk  in  the 
same  path,  and  look  to  the  same  end.  It  was  in  Lent 
that  sne  hod  died ;  and  from  every  pulpit  in  Rome  her 
praises  were  heard.  The  most  eminent  ecclesiastics  of 
the  time  all  foretold  her  canonisation ;  and  the  public 
voice  and  the  public  devotion  ratified  the  burst  of  po- 
pular enthusiasm  that  had  hailed  her  as  a  Saint  on  the 
very  day  of  her  death,  and  long  preceded  the  formtj 
recognition  of  her  sanctity  by  the  authority  of  the 
Church. 

A  few  months  after  her  death,  her  tomb  was  opened 
in  order  to  remove  the  corpse  into  a  monument  which 
Baptista,  Mobilia,  and  several  Roman  noblemen  had 


It.  PRANCRS  OP  HOME. 


135 


CH.  XV.] 

erected  in  her  honour.  It  was  found  in  a  state  of  per- 
fect prcservotion,  and  still  exhaling'  the  same  Ira^nce 
as  before.  The  most  exact  and  detailed  examinations 
were  taken  in  the  year  of  her  death,  both  as  to  all  the 
particulars  of  her  life,  and  as  to  th'j  supernatural  and 
miraculous  events  which  had  markf  d  its  course,  as  well 
as  those  which  had  succeeded  her  death. 

From  time  to  time  earnest  endeavours  were  made 
ti  hasten  her  formal  canonisation.  The  materials  were 
ample,  and  the  evidence  complete;  but  a  variety  of 
circumstances  interfered  with  the  conclusion  of  the  pro- 
cess; and  though  several  Popes,  namely,  Eng«nius  IV., 
Nicholas  v.,  Pms  IF.,  Innocent  VIII.,  and  Julius  II., 
promoted  the  question,  it  was  not  much  advanced  till 
the  accession  of  Clement  VIII.,  who  had  a  ^at  devo- 
tion to  the  Saint,  and  brought  the  matter  nearly  to  a 
close ;  but  his  death  occurring^  in  the  meantime,  and  his 
successor,  Leo  XI.,  only  outliving  him  twenty-seven 
days,  it  was  Paul  V.  (Boi^hese)  who  decreed  the 
canonisation  of  Francesca,  to  the  Joy  of  the  Oblates 
of  Tor  di  Specchi,  of  the  monks  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova, 
and  of  the  whole  people  of  Rome.  Her  festival  was 
appointed  to  be  kept  on  the  9th  of  March;  and  those 
who  have  been  in  Rome  on  that  day  can  tell  how  vivid 
is  the  devotion  that  still  exists, — ^the  worship  that  is 
yet  paid  to  the  holy  Francesca,  the  beloved  Samt  of 
the  Trastevere,  the  model  of  Christian  matrons ;  and  in 
the  church  of  Santa  Francesca  Romana,  as  the  old 
Santa  Maria  Nuova  is  now  called,  and  in  the  Casa  dei 
Esercizii  Pii  (the  old  Ponziano  Palace),  and  in  the 
time-honoured  walls  of  Tor  di  Specchi,  a  tribute  of 
love  and  of  devotion  is  yielded,  which  touches  the  heart, 
and  carries  the  mind  Dock  to  the  days  when,  amidst 
the  strife  of  war  and  the  miseries  of  anarchy,  faith, 
fresh,  strong,  and  pure,  assorted  its  power,  and  wiwight 
Wonders  through  such  feeble  instruments  as  a  woman's 
heart  and  a  woman*s  woiics. 

On  the  29th  of  May,  1608,  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter, 
then  lately  erected,  and  adorned  for  the  occasion  with 


136 


ST.  FRANCES  OF  ROME. 


the  utmost  magniiicence,  affcer  a  pontifical  High  Mass^ 
in  the  presence  of  the  Sacred  College,  and  of  an  immense 
affluence  of  strangera  as  well  as  of  Romans,  the  decree 
was  proclaimed  which  placed  Francesca  amongst  the 
canonised  taints,  and  sanctioned  the  worship  which  a 
devout  people  had  paid  her,  with  hut  few  interruptions, 
since  the  day  of  her  death.  Rome  was  illuminated  that 
night;  the  fieiT  cupola  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  sound  of 
inri.mierahle  heUs,  told  the  neighbouring  plains  and  hills 
that  "  God  had  regarded  tho  lowliness  of  His  hand- 
maiden," and  that,  in  her  measure,  all  generations  were 
to  call  her  Blessed. 

In  163d,  the  tomb  of  Francesca,  which,  in  conse- 
quence of  some  alterations  in  the  church,  had  remained 
out  of  sight  for  a  great  number  of  years,  was,  through 
the  pious  exertions  of  the  Oblates,  assisted  by  the  abbot 
of  Santa  Maria  Nuova,  and  the  Cardinals  Bovghese, 
Barberini,  and  Altiere,  discovered  in  the  spot  where  it 
had  been  placed  two  centuries  before.  Her  bones  were 
exposed  to  the  veneration  of  the  faithful,  and  a  number 
of  religious  processions  and  semces  took  place  on  the 
occasion.  Various  miracles  ag^ain  gave  testimony  to 
the  virtues  of  those  holy  relics,  and  a  magnificent  mo- 
nument was  erected  beneath  that  altar  whera  the  Saint 
had  so  often  prayed. 


d 

■h 
)t 

e, 
it 
re 
3r 
le 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNL 


199 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNL 

It  was  towards  the  latter  end  of  the  15th  century  that 
Lucia  Broccoletti  was  horn  in  the  ancient  city  of  Nami, 
in  Umhria,  where  her  father's  house  had  long  held  a 
nohle  and  distinguished  rank.  Even  as  a  baby  in  the 
cradle,  there  were  not  wanting  signs  which  marked  her 
as  no  ordinary  child;  and  if  we  may  credit  the  accoimt 
given  us  by  her  old  biog^phers,  both  her  nurses  and 
mother  wera  accustomed  to  see  her  daily  visited  by  an 
unknown  rehgious  dressed  in  the  Dominican  habit, 
whose  majestic  appearance  seemed  something  more 
than  human,  and  who,  taking  her  from  her  cradle, 
embraced  her  tenderly,  and  gave  her  her  blessing. 
They  watched  closely,  to  see  whence  this  mysterious 
visitor  came  and  whither  she  went,  but  were  never 
able  to  follow  her ;  and  the  mother  becoming  at  length 
alarmed  at  the  daily  recurrence  of  this  circumstance,  it 
was  revealed  to  her  that  her  child's  unknown  visitor 
was  no  other  than  St.  Catherine  of  Sienna,  to  whom 
she  was  given  sb  an  adopted  daughter. 

The  accounts  that  have  been  pi-eserved  of  Lncia's 
childhood  have  a  peculiar  interest  of  their  own.  Whilst 
the  early  biographies  of  many  saints  present  us  with 
instances  of  extittordinary  graces  and  mvours  granted 
to  them  in  infancy,  quite  as  numerous  and  remarkable 
as  those  bestowed  on  Blessed  Lucy,  yet  in  her  case  we 
find  them  mixed  with  the  details  of  a  characteristic 
vivacity  of  temperament,  which  give  them  a  lifelike 
reality,  and  show  her  to  us,  in  the  midst  of  her  super- 
natural visitations,  with  all  the  impetuosity  of  an  ima- 
ginative child.  When  she  was  only  four  years  old,  her 
mother's  brother,  Don  Simon,  came  on  a  visit  to  his 
sister's  house,  and  brought  with  him  irom  Rome  vari- 
ous toys  and  presents  for  the  children.    Lucy  wai 


140 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


given  her  choice;  and  whilst  the  others  were  loudly 
clamouiing  for  the  dolls  and  puppets,  she  selected  a 
little  rosary  with  an  image  of  the  Child  Jesus;  and 
this  being  given  to  her,  she  took  it  in  her  arms,  be- 
stowing every  name  of  childish  endearment  on  it,  kiss- 
ing its  hands  and  feet,  and  calling  it  her  dear  Christa- 
reUo,  a  name  which  continued  to  be  given  to  it  ever 
afterwai'ds.  The  rest  of  the  day  she  spent  in  her  own 
little  room,  where  she  aiTanged  a  comer  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  Ghiistarello,  and  was  never  tired  of  seemg 
and  caressing  her  new  treasure.  Henceforth  it  was 
here  that  she  spent  the  happiest  moments  of  the  day. 
If  ever  she  got  into  any  trouble  in  the  house,  it  was 
here  she  came  to  pour  out  all  her  sorrow;  and  the  inno- 
cent simplicity  of  her  devotion  was  so  pleasing  to  God, 
that  more  than  once  He  permitted  that  the  C&istarello 
should  wipe  away  the  tears  which  she  shed  on  these 
occasions  with  His  little  hand,  as  was  several  times 
witnessed  by  her  mother,  who  watched  her  through 
the  half-open  door.  As  she  grew  a  little  older,  she 
began  to  accompany  her  mother  to  chiu-ch ;  and  they 
frequently  went  to  visit  the  gi'eat  chinch  of  St.  Augus- 
tine, which  was  close  to  the  house  where  they  lived. 
Now  it  happened  that  in  this  church,  among  other  de- 
vout images,  there  was  a  small  bas-relief  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  holding  her  Divine  Son  in  her  arms,  which  took 
the  child's  fancy  the  fii-st  time  they  entered,  so  that 
she  slopped  to  look  at  it.  Her  mother  observed  i:.3r  as 
she  lingered  behind :  "  Lucy,"  she  said,  "  do  you  know 
who  that  beautiful  lady  is  whom  you  see  there  ?  She 
is  *he  Mother  of  your  ChriF/tjarello;  and  the  little  Child 
whom  she  carries  in  her  arms  is  the  Christarello  also. 
If  you  like,  we  will  come  here  sometimes ;  and  you  shall 
bring  the  rosanr  you  are  so  fond  of,  and  say  it  before 
her  image."  Lucy  was  delighted  at  the  idea;  and 
whenever  she  could  escape  from  her  nurse's  hand-,  she 
foimd  her  way  to  the  church,  to  admire  this  new  object 
of  her  devotion.  One  day,  being  thus  occupied,  the 
thought  came  into  her  head,  how  much  she  would  like 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


Ui 


to  hold  the  Christarello  for  once  in  her  own  arms,  as 
she  had  learnt  to  hold  her  little  bahy  brother.  She 
therefore  prayed  to  the  Blessed  Vir^  with  great 
earnestness  that  her  request  mi^ht  be  eranted,  and 
immediately  the  marble  figure  ot  the  little  Jesus  was 
extended,  to  her  by  His  Mother,  and  placed  in  her 
arms.  Nor  was  this  all :  no  sooner  had  she  received 
her  precious  burden,  than  she  felt  the  cold  marble  be- 
come a  living  Child ;  and,  fiill  of  delight,  she  ran  home 
still  carrying  Him;  and  though  she  met  many  people 
on  the  way,  who  stopped  her  as  she  hurried  along,  and 
tried  to  take  Him  n'om  her,  she  succeeded  in  getting 
safe  to  her  own  room  at  home,  where  she  shut  nerself 
up  with  her  treasure,  and  remained  with  Him  for  three 
days  and  nights  without  food  or  sleep,  insensible  to  all 
the  entreaties  and  remonstrances  of  her  astonished 
mother.  Conquered  at  length  by  T^tigue,  on  the  third 
day  she  fell  asleep ;  and  when  she  woke  she  became  sen- 
sible of  the  truth  that  God  abides  only  with  those  who 
watch  with  Him ;  for,  on  opening  her  eyes,  the  first 
thing  she  perceivcKl  was  that  the  Christarello  was  gone. 
Her  cries  of  distress  were  heard  by  her  mother,  who, 
to  console  her,  carried  her  once  more  to  the  church ; 
and  thei'e  they  found  the  marble  child  restored  to  the 
image  as  before,  although  for  the  three  previous  days 
its  place  in  the  arms  ot  the  Virgin's  figure  had  heen^ 
empty. 

She  was  accustomed  from  time  to  time  to  pay  a 
visit  to  the  uncle  before  mentioned,  and  when  about 
seven  years  old  she  went  as  usual  to  spend  some  time 
with  him  at  his  country  house.  She  rememoered,  on 
the  occasion  of  a  former  visit,  to  have  seen  a  room  in 
some  part  of  the  house  where  there  were  some  little 
angels  painted  on  the  walls,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  hold- 
ing their  hands  and  dancing;  and  the  first  morning 
aiter  her  arrival,  she  determined  to  set  out  on  a  dili- 
gent search  after  the  dancing  angels.  The  room  in 
which  they  were  painted  was  in  a  wing  of  the  houra 
which  had  fallen  out  of  repair,  and  was  nu  l(Higer  uMd* 


142 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


by  the  family ;  a  staircase  had  led  to  the  upper  story, 
but  this  was  now  fallen  and  in  ruins ;  and  though  Lucy, 
as  she  stood  at  the  bottom,  could  see  the  little  ang'els 
OQ  the  wall  above  her  head,  all  her  efforts  were  un- 
availing to  climb  the  broken  staircase  and  reach  the 
object  of  her  search.  She  had  recourse  to  her  usual 
expedient,  prayer  to  the  Christarello,  and  instantly 
found  hei'self  in  the  empty  room,  without  well  know- 
ing how  she  came  there.  But  her  thoughts  were  soon 
busy  with  the  angels.  There  they  were ;  little  winged 
children,  their  heads  garlanded  with  flowers,  their 
mantles  floating  as  it  seemed  in  the  air;  and  they 
danced  with  such  an  air  of  enjoyment  and  superhuman 
grace,  that  Lucy  sat  on  the  g^und  before  them,  ab- 
sorbed in  admiration.  As  she  sat  thas,  she  heard  her 
own  name  called  from  the  window.  She  turned  round, 
expecting  to  see  her  uncle  or  some  of  the  servants  of 
the  house ;  but  a  very  different  spectacle  met  her  eye. 
A  glorious  ccHupany  of  saints  and  angels  stood  round 
the  Person  of  Jesus  Himself.  On  His  ri^ht  was  His 
Virgin  Mother;  on  His  left,  St.  Catherine  and  the 
great  Patriarch  St.  Dominic,  with  many  others.  Then 
those  mystic  espousals  were  celebrated  which  we  read 
of  in  so  many  other  tales  of  the  Saints  of  God :  tlie 
Divine  Spouse  receiving  the  hand  of  the  delighted  child 
from  His  Blessed  Mother,  placed  a  ring  on  her  finger, 
which  she  preserved  to  the  hour  of  her  death ;  mer 
which  He  assigned  her  to  the  special  gfuaitlianship  of 
St.  Dominic  and  St.  Catherine,  whom  from  that  day 
she  always  was  used  to  call  her  **  &ther  and  mother." 
''And  have  you  nothing  to  give  Me?"  He  then  asked 
of  His  little  Spouse;  ''  will  you  not  g^ve  Me  that  silk 
mantle  and  pretty  necklace?"  Lucy  was  dressed  in 
the  rich  fieishion  of  the  day,  with  a  crimson  damask 
mantle  over  her  other  garments,  and  a  necklace  of  gold 
and  coral  beads  about  ner  neck;  but  at  these  words  of 
her  Spouse,  she  hastily  stripped  them  off,  and  lay  them 
at  His  feet.  He  did  not  tail,  however,  to  give  her  a 
richer  dress  in  their  place;  for  she  had  no  sooner  takes 


BLESSED  LUCY  Ol  KARK: 


U3 


l&t 


off  tSbe  silk  mantle,  than  St.  Dominic  clothed  her  with 
the  scapular  of  his  order,  which  she  continued  to  wear 
during  the  rest  of  her  life  under  her  other  clothes. 
When  the  vision  had  disappeared,  Lucy  found  herself 
full  of  a  new  and  inexpi-essible  joy.  She  turned  to  the 
little  angels  on  the  wall,  the  only  companions  lefb  her 
after  the  last  of  the  heavenly  train  had  faded  from  her 
eyes,  and  with  the  simplicity  of  her  childish  glee,  she 
spoke  to  them  as  though  they  were  alive.  *^  lou  dear 
little  angels,"  she  said,  "  are  you  not  glad  at  what  our 
Lord  has  done?"  Then  the  angels  seemed  to  move 
from  the  wall,  and  to  become,  indeed,  iidl  of  life ;  and 
they  s{K)ke  to  her  in  reply,  and  said  they  were  very 
glaa  to  have  her  for  their  queen  and  lady,  as  the 
Spouse  of  their  dear  Lord.  And  they  invitisd  her  to 
jom  in  their  dance  of  joy,  and  sang  so  sweet  and  har- 
monious a  music,  and  held  out  their  hands  so  kindly 
and  graciously,  that  Lucy  would  have  been  well  con- 
tent never  to  have  lefb  her  happv  place  of  retreat ;  nor 
would  she  have  done  so,  if  she  nad  not  been  found  by 
her  oacle,  and  carrier'  ag^ainst  her  will  back  to  the 
house. 

The  death  of  her  father,  left  her  whilst  still  young, 
to  the  guai'dianship  of  her  uncle.  All  her  own  wishes 
were  fixed  on  a  life  of  religion,  but  her  uncle  had  dif- 
ferent views  for  her ;  and  after  long  resistance  on  her 
Eart,  he  succeeded  in  inducing  her  to  accept  as  her 
usband  Count  Pietro  of  Milan,  a  young  nooleman  of 
considerable  worth  and  abihties.  The  marriage  was 
accordingly  celebrated ;  but  not  until,  in  answer  to  ear- 
nest prayers,  Lucy  had  received  a  divine  revelation  that 
a  life  £0  contrary  to  all  her  own  wishes  and  intentions 
was  inieed  God  s  will  regarding  her. 

Djubtless  it  is  one  oi;  those  cases  in  which  it  is  not 
easy  for  us  to  follow  the  ways  of  Divine  Providence. 
The  marriage  was  followed  by  much  suffering'  to  both 
pailies ;  yet.,  if  we  be  willing  to  take  the  Samts'  lives 
as  they  ai'e  given  us,  without  seeking  to  reduce  the 
supernatural  elements  we  find  in  them  to  the  level  of 


144 


BLESdED  LUCY  OF  NARNt. 


our  own  understanding,  we  shall  not  be  disposed  to 
doubt  the  truth  of  the  revelation  which  commanded  it, 
or  to  fancy  things  would  have  been  much  better  if 
Blessed  Lucy  had  never  been  placed  in  a  position  so 
little  in  harmony  with  her  own  wishes.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  must  admire  the  grace  of  God,  which  would 
perhaps  never  have  been  so  amply  manifested  in  His 
servant,  had  she  been  called  to  a  more  congenial  way  of 
life.  We  are  accustomed  to  admire  the  wonderM 
variety  of  examples  which  are  presented  to  us  in  the 
lives  of  the  Saints :  that  of  Bhssed  Lucy  offers  us  one 
of  a  soul  with  all  her  sympathies  and  desires  fixed  on 
the  higher  life  of  religion,  yet  fulfilling  with  perfect 
exactitude  the  minutest  duties  of  a  di^rent  vocation. 
She  sanctified  herself  in  the  will  of  God,  though  that 
will  was  manifested  to  her  in  a  position  which  the  world 
is  used  to  call  the  hardest  of  all  to  bear — an  ill-assoilied 
marriage.  She  found  means  to  practise  the  humiliation 
of  the  cloister,  without  laying  aside  the  duties,  or  even 
the  becoming  dignity,  of  ner  station. 

Her  first  care,  on  finding  herself  the  young  mistress 
of  a  house  full  of  servants,  was  with  them,  whom  she 
ever  looked  on  less  as  menials  than  as  a  cherished 
portion  of  her  family.  And  in  the  beautiful  account 
given  us  of  her  intercoui-se  with  them,  we  must  re- 
member that  at  the  period  in  which  she  lived,  it  was 
considered  nothing  uncommon  or  unbecoming  for  ladies 
of  the  highest  rank  to  join  in  the  household  occupations, 
and  take  their  part  in  the  day's  employment,  working 
with  their  servants,  and  presiding  amonf^t  them  with 
an  affectionate  fiEuniliarity,  which,  without  rendering 
them  less  a  mistress,  gave  them  at  the  same  time 
almost  the  position  of  a  mother.  Blessed  Lucy  de- 
lighted in  the  opportunities,  which  the  simple  mannei's 
of  the  day  thus  afforded  her,  of  laying  aside  her  rich 
dress  and  ornaments,  and  assisting  m  her  own  kitchen, 
where  she  always  chose  the  meanest  and  most  tiresome 
offices.  What  was  with  others  only  done  in  compliance 
with  the  ordinary  habit  of  the  day,  was  with  her  made 


BLESSED  LUCY  OP  NARNI. 


146 


the  occasion  of  secret  Immiliations.   One  of  lier  servants, 
a  woman  of  very  holy  life  and  disposition,  she  took  into 
her  confidence,  suhmittin^  herself  to  her  direction,  am^. 
oheying"  her  as  a  religfious  superior.   On  Holy  Thui-sday, 
she  washed  the  feet  of  all  her  domestics ;  and  that  with 
so  touchinff  a  devotion  as  to  dmw  teai*s  from  the  eyes 
of  the  rudest  and  most  indifferent  among*  them.     So 
pel  feet  was  the  discipline  she  succeeded  in  introdncinj^ 
amon^  them,  that,  far  fi'om  presenting"  the  spectacle  or 
disorder  so  common  in  households  filled  with  a  crowd  of 
feudal  rtiainers  of  all  kinds,  her  palace  had  the  quietude 
and  serenity  of  a  monastery.     JVever  was  an  oath  or 
licentious  word  heard  amonff  them  j  the  name  of  God 
was  honoured;  and  habits  of  devotion  became  cherished 
and  familiar,  where  before  they  had  been  too  often  an 
occasion  of  mockery.    All  the  family  dined  at  the  same 
table  J  and  during  the  repast  the  Lives  of  the  Saints, 
or  the  Holy  Scriptures,  were  read  aloud.     If  any  fault 
were  committed  by  any  of  the  household.  Blessed  Lucy 
knew  how  to  punish  it  so  rigorously  as  to  prevent  a  re- 
petition of  the  offen  e ;  and  in  this  she  was  often  assisted 
oy  the  gift  of  prophecy,  which  she  enjoyed  in  a  remark- 
able degree.     We  read  an  amusing  account  of  two  of 
her  maidens,  who  took  the  opportunity  of  their  mistress's 
absence  at  church  to  kill  two  fine  capons,  which  they 
i-esolved  to  dress  privately  for  their  own  eating.    The 
birds  were  already  on  the  spit,  when  their  mistress  was 
heard  entering  the  house.     Fearfid  of  discovery,  they 
took  the  half-roasted  capons  from  the  fire,  and  hid  them 
under  a  bed.     Blessed  Lurj,  however,  knew  all  that 
had  happened.     "Where  are  the  capons,"  she  said, 
"  that  were  in  the  court  this  morning  ?  "     "  They  have 
flown  away,"  said  the  two  women,  in  great  conmsion  : 
"  we  have  been  looking  for  them  every  where."  *^  Do  not 
try   to  deceive   God,  my  children,"   replied   Blessed 
Lucy :  "  they  are  both  under  your  bed ;  if  you  will 
follow  me,  I  will  show  them  to  you."     The  servants 
followed  her  in  silent  dismay ;  but  their  astonishment 
was  still  more  increased,  when  not  only  did  she  leiui 


140 


BLGSSKD  LUCY  OF  NAUNI. 


them  to  the  very  place  where  tliey  liad  hidden  theif 
spoils,  hut  calling"  trie  hirds  to  come  out,  they  ilew  out 
alive,  and  hegan  to  lustily. 

In  another  st«  her  life,  vv^e  find  her  represented 

v/ith  her  women  cashing"  the  linen  of  the  house  hy  the 
side  of  a  river  that  flowed  by  the  castle.  Whilst  so 
engaged,  one  of  them  fell  into  the  river  and  sank  to  the 
bottom ;  hut  Blessed  Lucy  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
over  the  water,  and  immediately  the  drowning  woman 
appeared  on  the  surface  safe  and  sound,  close  to  the 
river's  bank. 

And  in  the  midst  of  these  simple  and  homely  occu- 
pations, the  supernatural  life  of  prayer,  and  ecstacy,  and 
communion  with  God,  was  never  for  a  moment  inter- 
rupted. Strange  and  beautiful  sights  were  seen  by 
many  of  those  who  were  present  in  the  church  when 
she  communicated :  sometimes  a  column  of  fire  rested 
on  her  head;  sometimes  her  face  itself  shone  and  spai-kled 
like  the  sun.  Once  two  little  children,  whom  slie  had 
adopted  as  her  own,  saw,  as  they  knelt  behind  her, 
two  angels  come  and  crown  their  mother  with  a  g*ai'land 
of  exquisite  roses.  But  the  children  beg'an  to  weepj 
for  they  said  one  to  rnotlier,  "  Certainly  our  mother 
cannot  have  long  to  li  ^e,  foj*  the  angels  are  even  now 
crowninff  her  with  flowers." 

The  Deauty  of  her  face,  and  its  extraordinary  bril- 
liancy at  these  times,  had  a  singular  power  in  control- 
ling those  who  beheld  it.  Even  Count  Pietro  himself  was 
tamed  and  conquered  by  a  glance  from  her  eye,  when  it 
shone  with  this  more  than  human  splendour. 

This  mention  of  Count  Pietro's  name  reminds  us  that 
it  is  time  we  should  say  something  of  him,  and  of  his 
share  in  a  story  which  has  in  some  parts,  as  we  read  it, 
the  character  of  a  romance.  He  was  not  a  bad  man ;  ho 
seems  indeed  to  have  had  many  good  qualities,  and  to 
have  been  possessed  in  some  respects  of  a  degree  of  refine- 
ment beyond  what  was  common  at  the  time.  He  was 
sincerely  attached  to  liis  saintly  wife ;  but  he  could  not 
understand  her.    They  were  beings  of  diflerent  vorldu; 


Bf.GSSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


147 


and  tho  very  qualities  which  extoited  his  respect  and 
admiration  often  sadly  perplexed  and  worried  him.  Iler 
very  affection  for  himself  was  above  his  comprehension ; 
liis  own  feelings  were  too  much  made  up  of  tJie  ordinary 
selfishness  of  the  world,  for  him  to  know  how  to  mea- 
sure the  love  of  one  whose  love  was  in  God.  He  felt 
her  pownr  over  himself ;  and  whilst  he  yielded  to  it,  it 
in-itatfHl  him,  and  not  the  less  because  there  was  nothing 
of  which  he  could  complain.  This  irritation  showed 
itself  in  a  morose  jealousy,  sometimes  varied  by  iits  of 
passionate  violence;  in  which  he  nt  so  far  as  to  con- 
iine  his  wife  to  her  room,  and  once  even  to  threaten  her 
life. 

All  this,  and  the  yet  more  wearing*  trial  of  their 
daily  intercourse,  was  borne  by  Blessed ^ucy  with  un- 
varying* sweetness  and  gentleness.  But  thoug-h  she  ac- 
commodated herself  in  every  thinff  to  his  sullen  temper, 
and  even  showed  him  a  true  and  loyal  obedience,  the 
desire  after  those  heavenly  espousals  to  which  she  had 
been  promised  whilst  still  a  child  never  left  her  heart ; 
and  as  time  went  on,  she  beg  a  to  look  about  for  some 
opportunity  of  carrying*  her  wiohes  into  effect.  In  those 
days  it  was  no  uncommon  spectacle  to  see  a  wife  or  a  hus- 
band, in  obedience  to  the  interior  call  of  heaven,  aban- 
don every  tie  of  flesh  and  blood  for  the  retirement  of 
the  cloister ;  nor  was  the  propriety  of  such  a  step  ever 
questioned.  Society,  as  a  body,  in  the  ages  of  faith, 
acknowledged  the  principle,  that  one  whom  Christ  calls 
should  leave  all  and  follow  Him.  When,  therefore,  we 
hear  that  Blessed  Lucy  at  length  resolved  to  leave  her 
husband's  house,  and  take  the  habit  of  religion  in  the 
Order  of  St.  Dominic,  we  must  remember  that  she  was 
no  more  acting  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  age, 
than  when  she  worked  with  her  servants  in  the  kitchen. 
It  is  not  an  easy  matter  at  any  time  for  us  to  judge 
of  the  vocation  or  conscience  of  another ;  but  when 
we  liave  to  carry  back  our  investigation  four  hundred 
years,  we  can  hardly  hope  that  the  whole  history  of  a 
resolution  of  this  nat\u"e, — wh}  it  was  cam«^d  out  now, 


148 


DLESSKD  LUCY  OP  NAnvt. 


and  wliv  it  was  not  carried  out  before  lier  marrinc-C;— 
should  be  laid  oj>en  before  us  like  the  pag-es  of  a  l»cok. 
Of  one  thinf^  only  we  Cunnot  doubt, — God's  wiL  had 
been  very  clearly  and  sufficiently  declared ;  both  at  first, 
when  she  consented  to  give  up  her  own  wishes,  a/ul 
now,  when  the  time  was  come  for  them  to  be  ffni«  ♦*>^ 
She  contented  hei-self  at  fii*st  vitli  receiving*  tm  habit 
of  the  third  order,  and  remaining"  in  iier  mother'^  In  use 
for  a  year;  during-  which  time  she  had  to  endure  much 
^•ora  the  indignation  of  her  husband,  who  exj)res8ed  his 
own  disapproval  of  her  stop  in  a  very  summary  way, 
by  burning  down  the  raonasteiy  of  the  prior  wiio  had 
g-iven  her  the  habit.  But  her  uncles  at  length  took  the 
Kase  into  their  own  hands ;  and  after  considering  the 
very  extraordiaciry  signs  of  a  divine  call  which  had 
heen  made  manifest  in  her  life,  thp.y  decided  that  she 
should  be  suffered  to  follow  it  without  further  molesta- 
tion, and  placed  her  in  the  mona*it*?ry  of  St.  Catherine 
of  Sienna  at  Rome. 

Witliin  a  year  from  her  entrance  there,  the  fame  of  her 
sanctity  had  become  so  universal,  that  Father  Joachim 
Turriano,  the  General  of  the  Order,  being  about  to  found 
a  new  convent  of  nuns  at  Viterbo,  selected  her  as  the 
prioress  of  the  new  foundation;  on  which  office  she  ac- 
cordingly entered  in  the  year  1496,  being  then  exactly 
twenty  yeai-s  of  age.  So  great  was  the  reputation  ohe 
enjoyed,  that  though  the  number  of  religious  sent  with 
her  to  Viterbo  by  the  general  was  only  five,  the  crowds 
that  applied  for  admission  as  soon  as  her  presence  was 
known  was  so  great  that  the  convent  had  to  be  en- 
larged ;  and  she  soon  saw  hei'self  at  the  head  of  a 
numerous  and  flourishing  community. 

Meanwhile,  her  unhappy  husband  had  not  abandoned 
all  hopes  of  inducing  her  even  yet  to  return  to  the 
world.  He  had  followed  her  to  Kome,  and  made  vain 
efforts  to  see  and  speak  with  her :  he  now  followed  her 
also  to  Viterbo;  and  though  unsuccessful  in  his  attempts 
to  obtain  the  shghtest  answer  to  his  continual  applica- 
tions and  ap})e.'ils,  he  continued  to  linger  about  the  con- 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NArtNI. 


149 


\eni,  in  the  restless  mood  of  ono  who  woiihl  not  pive 
up  his  desioTi  as  hopeless.  Every  ton«j;nio  nmiind  him 
was  busy  with  the  fume  of  Lucy's  saintliness ;  from 
one  ho  neard  of  hor  almost  continual  pmyor,  from 
another,  of  the  g"lory  which  was  seen  to  hover  over  her 
face  in  the  presence  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament :  hut 
soon,  in  the  Fehnjary  following  her  removal  to  Viterlx), 
the  intiM'ost  of  all  was  absorbed  in  a  new  reiMM-t, — fluit 
she  had  received  the  sacred  stig'mata;  and  that  in  so 
remarkable  a  manner  as  to  put  all  doubt  on  the  subject 
out  of  the  question.  For  it  was  in  the  choir,  with  tliB 
other  religious,  that,  being*  engaged  in  profound  medi- 
tation on  the  Passion,  she  was  observed  by  one  of  the 
sisters  to  look  pale  and  as  if  suffering  acute  pain.  The 
sister  went  up  to  her  to  support  her,  and  was  struck 
with  the  appearance  of  her  hands,  the  bones  of  which 
seemed  dislocated,  and  the  nerves  torn.  "  Mother  of 
God  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  is  the  rcatter  with  your 
hands  ?"  "  Nothing,"  was  the  fainc  reply ;  "  they  are 
only  gone  to  sleep."  But  within  a  few  moments  the 
agony  she  was  enduring  and  endeuvourin*^  to  conceal 
overpowered  her,  and  she  became  perfectly  senseless. 
They  carried  her  from  the  choir  and  restored  her  to 
consciousness,  so  that  she  was  able  to  return  within  an 
hour  and  receive  Holy  Communion ;  but  the  same 
sister  who  had  first  observed  her,  being  convinced  some- 
thing very  extraordinary  had  happened,  continued  to 
watch  her,  and  followed  her  to  her  cell.  She  then  re- 
marked that  her  hands  were  livid,  and  the  skin  raised 
and  much  inflamed ;  and  by  the  end  of  the  week  the 
wounds  became  large  and  open,  and  shed  so  great  an 
abundance  of  blood  that  it  could  no  longer  oe  con- 
cealed. The  excitement  which  followed,  when  these 
circumstances  became  genemlly  known,  can  hardly  be 
described.  A  minute  investigation  was  fii'st  made  by 
the  Bishop  of  Viterbo;  after  which  three  successive 
commissions  of  inquiry  were  appointed  by  the  com- 
mand of  the  Pope  to  examine  the  afi^iir,  and  each  of 
these  inquiries  terminated  in  the  declaration  that  the 


150 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNT. 


truth  of  the  miracle  was  beyond  all  dispute.  Multi- 
tudes flocked  to  the  convent  to  see  and  touch  thn 
sacred  wounds,  and  came  back  ftiU  of  the  wonders 
which  their  own  eyes  had  witnessed.  Duke  Hercules 
of  Este,  the  Pope's  nephew,  made  earnest  applications 
to  his  uncle  to  suffer  her  to  be  removed  to  his  own 
city  of  FeiTara  j  and  whilst  all  these  things  were  going 
on.  Count  Pietro  still  remained  in  Viterbo. 

The  world  about  him  was  echoing  with  his  wife's 
renown,  but  none  knew  his  own  connection  with  her. 
Each  marvel  that  he  heard  did  but  seem  to  widen  the 
gulf  between  them;  yet  still  he  stayed  and  lingered 
within  sight  of  the  walls  that  shut  ner  firom  him  for 
ever:  now  bitterly  accusing  himself  for  the  bhndness 
of  his  own  conduct  towards  her;  now  striving  to  keep 
alive  a  kind  of  despairing  hope  that,  could  he  but  once 
gain  admittance  to  her  presence,  he  might  even  yet 
regain  possession  of  a  treasure  which,  when  it  was  his, 
he  knew  not  how  to  value.  At  length  his  desires  were 
gpranted.  A  sudden  inspiration  induced  Lucy  to  con- 
sent to  an  interview :  it  was  the  first  that  had  taken 
I)lace  smce  she  had  fled  from  his  house,  and  it  was  the 
ast  they  ever  had  in  this  life. 

It  must  have  been  a  singular  meeting:  the  two 
years  of  their  separation  had  altered  both.  As  to  the 
Count,  his  restless  despair  had  wora  him  to  an  old 
man.  He  had  never  seen  Nami  since  the  day  of  her 
departure  for  Rome,  whither  he  had  followed  her ;  and 
had  spent  the  long  dayt;  of  those  two  years  hanging 
about  the  convent-gates  like  some  miserable  beggar. 
And  the  same  two  years  had  placed  Lucy  far  beyond 
his  reach,  as  it  were  in  a  supernatural  world  above 
him.  When  she  stood  before  him  at  the  grate,  and  he 
beheld  her  marked  with  those  sacred  and  mysterious 
wounds,  and  bearing  in  her  whole  appearance  the  air 
of  one  whose  sympathies  were  for  ever  removed  from 
the  affections  of  humanity,  his  heart  failed  him.  He 
had  thought  to  speak  to  her  of  her  home,  and  the 
chums  which  should  recal  her  to  the  world ;  he  saw 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


151 


before  him  sometliing"  a  little  lower  than  the  ang-els ; 
&^d  falling  on  his  knees,  he  bent  his  eyes  to  the 
ground,  and  remained  silent.  Then  she  spoke ;  and  hea- 
ven seemed  to  speak  to  him  by  her  voice.  The  mists 
of  eai'thly  passion  rolled  away  from  his  heai-t  as  he 
listened ;  the  world  and  its  hopes  died  in  him  at  that 
moment ;  an  extraordinary  struggle  tore  his  very  soul, 
then  passed  away,  and  left  it  in  a  profound  calm.  For 
the  nrst  time  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  reahty 
which  tiU  now  he  had  treated  as  a  dream ;  the  world 
and  its  imquiet  joys  were  now  themselves  the  dream, 
and  heaven  opened  on  him  as  the  reaUty.  All  Ufe  fell 
away  from  him  in  that  hour ;  and  when  his  wife  ceased 
speaking,  she  had  won  his  soul  to  God.  He  dragged 
mmself  to  her  feet,  and  bathed  them  in  his  tears ;  he 
conjured  her  pardon  for  all  the  persecutions  and  vio- 
lence of  the  past,  and  renounced  every  right  or  claim 
over  her  obedience  for  ever.  Then,  leaving  her  with- 
out another  word,  he  obeyed  the  voice  wmch  had  so 
powerfiilly  spoken  to  his  heart ;  for  within  a  few  week.* 
ne  took  the  habit  of  the  Friars  Minor  of  the  strict  ob- 
servance J  and  perseveiing  in  it  for  many  yeai-s,  died  a 
little  before  his  wife,  with  the  reputation  of  sanctity. 

"Were  this  a  roi^aanoe,  the  stor^  of  Blessed  Lucy 
might  well  end  here.  But  her  life  was  yet  scarcely 
begun.  Shortly  after  the  interview  with  her  husband 
just  spoken  of^  Duke  Hercules  obtained  the  Pope's 
orders  for  her  removal  to  Ferrara.  This  was  only 
done  by  stealth ;  for  the  people  of  Viterbo  having  got 
inteUigence  of  the  design,  guarded  the  city  night  and 
day  J  so  that,  in  oi*der  to  gain  possession  of  the  Saint, 
the  duke  was  reduced  to  the  expedient  of  loading 
several  mules  with  large  baskets,  as  if  full  of  goods ; 
and  in  one  of  these  Blessed  Lucy  was  concealed  and 
carried  off,  under  tlie  guardianship  of  a  strong  body  of 
armed  men.  Being  arrived  at  Feirara,  the  duke  re- 
ceived her  with  extraordinary  honours,  and  built  a 
magnificent  convent  for  her  reception,  to  which  Pope 


152 


BLESSED  LUCY  OP  NARNI. 


Alexander  VI.  granted  singular  privileges,  by  a  brief 
wherein  he  declared  her  to  have  "  followed  the  foot- 
steps of  St.  Catherine  o*"  Sienna  in  all  things."  In  this 
convent  she  gave  the  habit  to  her  own  mother,  as  well 
as  to  many  noble  ladies  of  Ferrara. 

It  were  too  long  to  tell  of  all  the  signs  of  Divine 
favour  which  were  granted  to  her  during  the  first  years 
of  her  new  government ;  of  the  miracles  wrought  by 
her  hands,  the  visions  of  maiTellous  beauty  that  were 
given  to  her  gaze ;  and  the  familiarity  witn  which  she 
seemed  to  live  among  the  saints  and  angels.  Thus  one 
day,  passing  into  tlie  dormitory,  she  was  met  by  the 
figure  of  a  religions,  whom  she  knew  to  be  St.  Cathe- 
rine of  Sienna.  Prostrating  herself  at  her  feet,  she 
prayed  her  to  bless  the  new  monastery,  which  was  de- 
dicated in  her  name.  Tlie  saint  willingly  complied, 
and  they  went  throuj^h  the  house  together;  Blessed 
Lucy  carrying  the  holy  water,  whilst  St.  Catherine 
sprinkled  the  cells,  as  the  manner  is  in  blessing  a 
house.  Whilst  tliey  went  along,  they  sang  together 
the  hymn  Ace  Maris  Stella;  and  naving  finished, 
St.  Catherine  loft  her  staff  with  Blessed  Lucy,  and 
took  her  leave.  And  another  time  they  saw  in  the 
same  dormitory  a  great  company  of  angels,  and  the 
form  of  one  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  clad  in  an  azure 
robe  in  the  midst  of  them,  standing  among  them  as 
their  queen.  Then  she  sent  them  hither  and  thither, 
like  soldiers  to  tlieir  posts,  and  bid  them  gaiard  the 
various  offices  of  the  monastery;  "for,"  she  said,  "we 
must  take  possession  of  this  house." 

One  hngers  over  this  period  of  her  story,  unwilling 
to  pass  on  to  the  sori-owful  conclusion.  God,  who  had 
elevated  her  so  highly  in  the  sight  of  the  world,  was 
about  to  set  upon  her  life  the  seal  of  a  profound  humi- 
liation. Hithei-to  she  had  been  placed  ?)efore  the  eyes 
of  man  as  an  object  of  enthusiastic  7eneration :  her  con- 
vent gates  were  crowded  by  persons  of  all  ranks,  who 
thronged  only  to  see  her  for  a  moment.     Duke  Her* 


BLESSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


153 


cules  of  Este  applied  to  her  for  counsel  in  all  diff  ?ul- 
ties  of  state.  1  he  Pope  had  issued  exti-aordinary  briefs 
to  enable  the  religious  of  other  convents  and  orilers  lo 
pass  under  lier  government,  and  even  to  leave  the 
second  order  to  join  her  community,  which  belong'ed  to 
the  third, — a  pi-ivilege  we  shall  scai-cely  find  granted  in 
Hny  other  case.  But  now  these  triuniphs  and  distinctions 
were  about  to  have  an  end.  Blessed  Lucy  was  about 
twenty-nine  years  of  ag'e.  The  honour  in  which  she  was 
held,  and  the  public  celebrity  she  enjoyed,  were  a  con- 
tinual source  of  soitow  and  humiliation  to  her;  and 
with  the  desire  to  escape  from  somethings  of  the  po- 
pular applause  which  followed  her,  she  ceased  not  ear- 
nestly to  implore  her  Divine  Spouse  to  remove  from 
her  the  visible  marks  of  the  sacred  stigmata,  which 
were  the  chief  cause  of  the  veneration  wliich  was  paid 
her  by  the  world.  Her  request  was  in  part  granted, 
the  wounds  in  her  hands  and  feet  closed ;  but  that  of 
the  side,  which  was  concealed  from  the  eyes  of  others, 
remained  open  to  the  hour  of  her  death. 

Whether  the  withdrawal  of  these  visible  tokens  of 
the  Divine  favour  was  the  cause  of  the  change  in  the 
sentiments  of  her  subjects,  we  are  not  told ;  but  we 
find  shortly  after,  that  some  among  them,  disgusted  at 
her  reftisal  to  allow  the  community  to  become  incorpo- 
rated with  the  second  order,  rose  in  rebeUion,  and  even 
attempted  her  life.  The  scandal  of  this  crime  was  con- 
cealea  through  the  exertions  of  Lucy  herself;  but  on 
the  death  of  her  great  protector,  Duke  Heroules,  in 
1605,  the  discontented  members  of  the  community 
recommenced  their  plots  against  her  authority  anH 
reputation.  Their  designs  were  laid  with  consimimate 
art;  and  at  length  they  publicly  accused  her  of  having 
been  seen  in  her  cell  endeavouring  to  re-open  tlie 
wounds  of  her  hands  and  feet  with  a  knife,  in  order  to 
impose  on  the  public.  Their  evidence  was  so  ably  con- 
cocted, that  they  succeeded  in  gaining  over  the  heads 
of  the  order  to  their  side.    Hasty  and  violent  measui-ea 


154 


BLESSED  I  CCY  OF  NARNI 


were  at  once  adopted ;  every  apostolic  privJege  granted 
hy  Pope  Alexander  was  revoked;  she  was  degraded 
from  her  office  of  prioress,  deprived  of  every  right  and 
voice  in  the  community,  and  placed  below  the  young-est 
novice  in  the  house,  fehe  was,  moreover,  forbidden  to 
speak  to  any  one  except  the  confessor,  kept  in  a  strict 
imprisonment,  and  treated  in  every  way  as  if  proved 
guilty  of  an  infamous  imposture.  Nor  was  tms  dis- 
grace confined  within  the  enclosure  of  her  own  monas- 
tery ;  it  spread  as  far  as  her  reputation  had  extended. 
All  Italy  was  moved  with  a  transport  of  indignation 
against  her  j  the  storm  of  invective  which  was  raised 
reached  her  even  in  her  prison ;  her  name  became  a  pro- 
verb of  reproach  through  Europe;  and  the  nuns  who  nad 
been  professed  at  her  hands  made  their  professions  over 
again  to  the  new  prioress,  as  if  their  vows  formerly 
made  to  her  had  been  invalid. 

One  can  hardly  picture  a  state  of  desolation  equal 
to  that  in  which  Blessed  Lucy  now  found  herself.  It 
was  as  if  this  token  of  deep  abjection  and  humiliation 
were  required  as  a  confirmation  of  her  saintliness. 
If  any  such  proof  were  indeed  needed,  it  was  furnished 
by  the  conduct  which  she  exhibited  under  this  exti-a- 
ordinaiy  trial.  During  the  whole  remaining  period  of 
her  life,  a  space  of  eignt-and-thirty  years,  she  bore  her 
heavy  cross  without  a  murmur.  Perhaps  its  hardest 
suffering  was,  to  Uve  thus  among  those  whom  she  had 
gathered  together  with  iier  own  hands,  and  had  sought 
to  lead  to  the  highest  paths  of  religion,  comp  lUed  now 
to  be  a  silent  witness  of  their  wickedness.  Her  life  was  a 
long  prayer  for  her  persecutors,  and  we  are  assured  that 
no  sorrow  or  regret  ever  seemed  to  shadow  the  deep 
tranquillity  of  her  soul.  So  far  as  it  touched  herself, 
she  took  it  as  a  more  precious  token  of  her  Spouse's 
love  tlvan  all  the  graces  and  favours  He  had  ever 
heaped  on  her  before.  But  it  is  no  part  of  saintliness 
to  oe  indifferent  to  the  sins  of  others;  and  we  can 
scarcely  fathom  the  anguish  which  must  hourly  have 


BLESSED  hVVY  OP  NARNI, 


155 


pierced  her  heart,  at  the  ingratitude  and  malignity  of 
ner  unworthy  children. 

And  so  closed  the  life  which  had  opened  in  such  a 
joyous  and  beautiful  childhood.  God  indeed  knew  how 
to  comfort  one  whom  the  world  had  utterly  cast  out ; 
and  though  cut  off  from  the  least  commimication  with 
any  human  beinff,  she  could  scarcely  be  pitied  whilst 
her  neglected  and  solitary  cell  was  the  resort  of  celes- 
tial visitants  and  friends.  The  I'eader  is  possibly  a 
little  tired  of  such  tales ;  yet  we  ask  his  indulgence 
whilst  referring  to  one  of  these  last  incidents  in  the  life 
of  Blessed  Lucy,  which  we  can  scarcely  omit.  There 
lived  at  the  same  time,  at  Caramagna  in  Savoy,  another 
beatified  saint  of  the  same  illustrious  order.  Blessed 
Catherine  of  Raconigi.  She  had  never  3een  Blessed 
Lucy;  but  had  heard  of  her  saintly  fame,  and  the  lustre 
of  her  life  an'!  miracles,  and  then  also  of  her  suffer- 
ings and  disgrace.  But  the  saints  of  God  judge  not 
as  the  world  judges ;  and  Catherine  knew  by  the  light 
of  divine  illumination  the  falsehood  of  tne  charges 
brought  against  her  sister.  She  had  ever  longed  to  see 
and  speak  with  her ;  and  now  more  than  ever,  when  the 
ghtter  of  the  world's  applause  was  exchanged  for  its 
contumely  and  persecution.  The  thought  of  her  sister, 
never  seen  with  mortal  eye,  yet  so  dearly  loved  in  God, 
never  left  her  mind;  and.  she  prayed  earnestly  to  their 
common  Lord  and  Spouse,  that  He  would  comfort  and 
support  her,  and,  if  such  were  His  blessed  will,  satisfy 
in  some  way  her  own  intense  desire  to  hold  some  kinH 
of  intercom*se  with  her  even  in  this  life.  One  night,  as 
she  was  thus  praying  in  her  cell  at  Caramagna,  her 
desires  were  heard  and  granted.  The  same  evening 
Lucy  was  also  alone  and  in  prayer ;  and  to  her  in  like 
manner  God  had  revealed  the  sanctity  of  Catherine, 
kindling  in  her  heart  a  loving  sympathy  with  one  who, 
though  a  stranger  in  the  world's  language,  had  been 
brought  very  near  to  her  heart  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
Heart  of  Jesus.    We  cannot  say  how  and  in  what  way 


150 


BLESSED  LUCT  OF  NARNI. 


it  was,  but  they  spent  that  night  together;  but  when 
morning  came,  and  found  her  again  alone  as  before, 
Lucy  had  received  such  strength  and  consolation  fi-om 
her  siscer's  visit,  that,  as  her  biographer  says,  "  she  de- 
sired new  affronts  and  persecutions  lor  the  glory  of  that 
Lord  who  knew  so  well  how  to  comfort  and  suppoi  t 
her  in  them." 

Her  last  illness  came  on  her  in  her  sixty-eighth 
year :  for  eight-and-thirty  years  she  had  lived  stripped 
of  all  human  consolation ;  and  the  malice  of  her  enemies 
continued  unabated  to  the  last.  None  came  near  her, 
as  she  lay  weak  and  dying  on  her  miserable  bed.  Like 
her  Lord  and  Master,  they  hid  their  faces  from  her, 
counting  her  as  a  leper.  The  ordinary  offices  of  charity, 
which  they  would  have  done  to  the  poorest  beggar  m 
the  streets,  they  denied  to  her ;  she  was  left  to  die  as 
she  had  lived,  alone.  But  if  the  world  abandoned  her, 
God  did  not.  Her  pillow  was  smoothed  and  tended  by 
more  than  a  mother's  care.  Saint  Catherine  did  not 
neglect  her  charge.  It  is  said  she  was  more  than  once 
seen  by  the  sick-bed,  having  in  her  company  one  cf 
the  sisters  of  the  community,  who  had  departed  a  short 
time  before,  with  the  reputation  of  sanctity ;  and  to- 
gether they  did  the  office  of  infirmarians  to  the  dying 
Saint.  When  the  last  hour  drew  nigh,  she  called  the 
sisters  around  her  bed,  and  humbly  asked  their  pardon 
for  any  scandal  she  had  given  them  in  life.  We  do 
not  find  one  word  of  justification,  or  remonstrance,  or 
even  of  regret ;  only  some  broken  words  of  exhorta- 
tion, not  to  be  ofiended  at  her  imperfection,  but  to  love 
God  and  be  detached  from  creatures,  and  abide  stead- 
fastly by  their  rule.  At  midnight,  on  the  16th  of 
November,  1544,  she  felt  the  moment  of  release  was 
at  hand ;  and  without  any  death-stniggle  or  sign  of 
sufiering,  she  raised  her  hands  and  cried,  "Up  to 
heaven,  up  to  heaven !"  tnd  so  expired,  with  a  smile 
that  remained  on  the  dead  f&ce  with  so  extraordinary  a 
beauty,  that  none  could  look  on  it  without  a  sentimen^ 


BLIilSSED  LUCY  OF  NARNI. 


157 


to 
le 


of  awe ,  for  they  knew  it  was  the  beauty  of  one  of  God's 
Saints. 

The  truth  could  not  long^er  be  concealed ;  one  super- 
natural token  after  another  was  given  to  declare  the 
blessedness  of  the  departed  soul.  Ang-elic  voices  were 
heard  singling-  above  the  cell  by  all  ihe  sisters;  an  extra- 
ordinary perfume  filled  the  cell  and  the  whole  house ; 
and  the  community,  who  had  probably  for  the  most 
part  been  deceived  oy  onp  or  two  in  authority,  without 
any  malice  on  their  owi  part,  now  loudly  insisted  on 
justice  being  done  to  the  deceased.  It  was  done,  so 
far  as  funeral  honours  can  make  amends  for  a  life  of 
cruelty  and  calumniation.  The  body  was  exposed  in 
the  church ;  and  the  fickle  crowds  who  had  called  her 
an  impostor  while  living,  crowded  now  to  see  and  touch 
the  sacred  remains.  The  wound  in  her  side  was  ex- 
amined, and  found  dripping  with  fresh  wet  blood ;  the 
sick  were  cured,  and  evil  spirits  cast  out,  by  cloths 
which  had  been  placed  on  the  relics. 

Four  years  after  the  body  was  taken  fi'om  its  grave, 
and  found  fi-esh  and  beautiful  as  in  life.  Then  it  was 
again  exposed  in  the  church  to  the  veneration  of  the 
faithful,  who  crowded  once  more  to  pay  it  honour,  and 
were  wonder-struck  at  the  pei*fume,  as  of  sweet  violets, 
which  issued  from  it,  and  attached  to  every  tiling  which 
it  touched.  And  it  was  again  disinterred,  little  more 
than  a  century  ago,  in  1710,  when  it  presented  tho 
same  appearance  as  before,  and  the  sacred  stigmata 
were  observed  distinct  and  visible  to  all.  On  this 
occasion  a  part  of  the  body  was  tr«-i6lated  to  Narni, 
where  it  now  reposes  in  a  mag-nifitent  shrine,  and  re- 
ceives extraordinary  honours,  amid  the  scene  of  hei 
childish  devotion  to  the  Christarello.  Perhaps,  as  we 
read  of  these  honours  to  the  dead,  we  may  feel  they 
were  but  poor  reparation  for  tho  calumnies  and  injuries 
heaped  on  her  while  living :  or,  if  we  seek  to  measure 
these  things  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary,  we  can 
believe  that  to  her  blessed  spirit  now,  those  long  years 


158 


BLESSED   LUCY  OF   NARNI. 


of  abandomnent  and  desolation,  whicli  cut  her  off  from 
all  communion  with  this  earth  for  more  than  half  her 
mortal  life,  were  a  far  more  precious  gift  than  all  the 
shrines,  and  fimeral  honom*s,  and  popular  veneration, 
which  the  world  in  its  tardy  repentance  was  moved  to 
give  her. 

She  was  finally  beatified  by  Benedict  XIII.  towai-di 
die  middle  of  the  last  century. 


in 

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DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO 


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181 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


About  four  hundred  years  ago  there  lived  at  a  small 
country  village  near  r'lorence,  called  Paradiso,  a  poor 
Gfardener  ana  his  wife,  whose  names  were  Francis  and 
Costanza.  They  had  several  children,  of  whom  the 
youngest  was  named  Dominica,  who  was  brought  up 
to  the  life  of  labour  and  hardship  ordinary  among  the 
poorer  peasantry  of  Italy,  and  whose  daily  task  it  was  to 
lielp  in  the  cultivation  of  the  garden  on  which  the 
whole  family  depended  for  support.  Beyond  the  first 
i-udiments  of  tlie  Christian  faith,  Dominica  received  no 
education;  for  lier  parents  were  in  no  way  superior  in 
intelligence  to  othere  of  their  class  in  life.  Nevertheless, 
from  her  very  infancy  she  showed  signs  that  the  few 
instructions  which  they  were  able  to  give  her  had  made 
a  wonderfiil  impression  on  her  heart;  and  as  her  soul 
received  each  new  religious  idea,  it  was  cherished  and 
meditated  on;  so  that  she  gathered  materials  enough 
out  of  these  simple  elements  to  build  up  a  life  of  the 
liigliest  contemplative  prayer.  Among  all  the  biogi-a- 
phies  of  the  saints  which  have  been  preserved  to  us, 
there  are  few  which  so  vividly  illustrate  the  growth  of 
a  profound  and  supernatural  devotion  in  the  heart  of 
an  uneducated  child  as  that  before  us.  Nor  will  it  be 
thought  that  the  extreme  simplicitv  which  mingles 
with  some  of  the  passages  of  her  liie  which  urc  here 
selected,  lessens  the  beauty  of  a  narrative  whose  inci- 
dents charm  us  like  a  poem. 

Dominica  was  marked  in  a  special  way  as  the  child 
of  Mary,  even  from  her  cradle.  The  first  occasion 
when  we  read  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  appearing  to  her 
was  one  day  when  she  was  lying  on  her  poor  little  bed, 


102 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


b(«iiig  tlien  only  four  years  old.  Tho  presence  of  the 
Divine  Mother  witii  a  train  of  shining^  ang-els  then 
first  awoke  in  her  little  heart  a  long-inuf  after  God  and 
lieaven  j  and  she  heg-an  to  pray — thouu^h  scarcely  know- 
ini^  the  meaning  of  the  words  she  ut^^ered — that  she 
might  be  taught  the  way  to  reach  that  glory,  the 
vision  of  which  had  caj)tivated  her  imagination.  Then 
she  came  to  understand  that  fidelity  to  God's  precepts, 
and  contrition  for  sin,  was  the  patii  of  saintliness ;  and 
so  were  traced  out  on  her  soul  the  first  lineaments  of 
perfection.  Now  she  had  learnt  that  cohtrition  was  a 
sorrow  for  sin ;  and  the  simple  sort  of  catechism  which 
lier  mother  was  accustomed  to  teach  her  spoke  also  of 
the  heart  being  full  of  sin,  and  how  tears  of  penitence 
were  necessary  to  wash  it  from  its  corrupt  stains.  A 
metaphor  of  any  kind  was  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
Dominica's  comprehension;  she  therefore  took  these 
expressions  in  a  very  straightforward  way,  and  wept 
lieartily  to  think  her  heart  should  be  so  defiled  and 
dangerous  a  thing.  And  the  handkereliief  which  was 
wet  with  her  chudish  tears  she  laid  over  her  breast, 
thinking  that  this  must  be  the  way  to  wash  away  the 
stains  they  talked  of. 

All  day  long  she  revolved  in  her  mind  the  one  idea 
which  had  been  revealed  to  her  soul, — perfection,  as  the 
road  to  God's  presence;  and  thinking  incessantly  of 
these  things  amid  the  various  occupations  in  which  she 
was  engaged,  she  came  to  make  every  part  of  her 
day's  work  asso^.ated  with  the  subjects  of  ner  medita- 
tion. To  her  eye,  all  imtaught  by  man,  but  enlight- 
ened by  the  Divine  light,  the  invisible  things  of  God 
were  clearly  seen  by  the  things  that  were  visible. 
Once  she  was  helping  an  elder  sister  to  make  some 
cakes  mixed  with  poppy-seeds,  to  give  to  her  brother 
who  was  ill  and  suffering  from  want  of  sleep.  As  she 
baked  the  cakes,  her  thoughts  were,  as  usual,  busy  find- 
ing divine  meanings  in  the  things  before  her.  The 
interior  voice,  whose  whispers  she  as  yet  scarcely  un- 
derstood, seemed  to  speak  to  her  of  another  kind  of 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


163 


)me 
ther 
I  she 
tnd- 
:he 
lun- 
of 


toun  f^mtrt  fihoiild  satisfy  t)ie  soul,  so  tlmt  it  should 
Blumher  and  rejwse  in  the  sKm'I)  of  Divine  love.     Then 
she  pniyed  very  enniestly  to  ue  f^iven  this  wonderful 
food;    and    tlie   voice    K{)oko  in    auHwer,    and    said, 
"  Dauf»'hter,  the  food  of  which  I  snake  is  none  other 
than  My  love,  with  which  when  the  saints  in  heaven 
nve  tilled  and  satisfied,  they  sleep  so  sweetly,  that  they 
forg-et  all  created  thinaps,  and  watch  only  unto  Me. 
And  Dominica  wondered  how  the  saints  took  this  mar- 
vellous slumher,  and  whether  it  were  on  heds  made 
like  her  o\\  n  straw  mattress,  or  in  the  hosora  of  God, 
even  as  her  mother  was  wont  to  rock  the  little  baby  to 
sleep.    When  she  was  at  work  in  the  garden,  she 
would  raise  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  think  how  she 
could  make  her  heart  a  garden  of  dowel's  for  the  de- 
light of  God.    And  once,  as  she  so  mused.  He  who 
had  undertaken  the  office  of  teacher  and  director  to  her 
soul  appeared  to  her,  and  tauj^ht  her  that  pi-ayer  would 
keep  that  soul  ever  ft-esh  ana  green  before  Him ;  and 
that  He  would  open  in  that  garden  five  limpid  and 
crystal  fountains  to  refresh  it,  even  the  five  wounds  of 
His  Sacred  Passion ;  and  that  she,  on  her  part,  mu?'t 
keep  it  free  from  weeds,  daily  plucking  up  evil  pas- 
sions, and  the  idle  thoughts  of  vanity  and  the  world ; 
that  so  it  might  be  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  abundant 
in  all  pleasant  fruits.     If  she  ran  upstaii-s,  her  tliouo;'hts 
ascended  to  heaven;  if  she  came  down,  she  abased  her- 
self in  the  depths  of  lowliness  and  humility.     The  oxen 
ploughing  in  the  field  reminded  her  to  bear  meekly  the 
yoke  of  obedience;   and  as  she  stood  in  her  father's 
wine-press  she  taught  herself  to  tread  under  her  own 
will  and  nature,  if  she  would  taste  of  the  sweetness  of 
divine  consolations.     Once  the  sight  of  a  hen  with  her 
brood  of  chickens  so  vividly  ))rought  before  her  the 
mystery  ( f  the  Incarnation,  and  that  wonderful  love 
which  gave  its  life  to  cover  our  sins  and  shield  us  fix)ra 
the  wrath  of  God,  that  she  was  rapt  in  a  state  of 
ecstasy,  and  so  remained  in  the  garden  all  that  day 
ftnd  the  following  night.    And  again,  as  she  gathered 


164 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADISO. 


the  ripe  apples  which  her  mother  was  hoarding*  for  the 
winter,  she  hecame  absorhed  in  contemplating'  the 
heauty  of  that  soul  wherein  the  fiaiits  ot  virtue  are 
broug'lit  fortli,  making  it  pleasant  in  the  eye  of  God. 
And  she  sighed  deeply,  and  said,  "  Oh,  that  I  knew 
how  to  store  my  soul  with  these  precious  fiuits !  how 
happy  should  I  then  be!"  And  the  Spouse  of  her 
heart  came  swiftly  to  her,  and  showed  her  how  for 
every  apple  she  gathered  for  the  love  of  Him,  there 
was  broug'lit  Torth  a  gl6rious  fmit  within  her  soul, 
more  gracious  and  beautiful  in  His  sight  than  the  fair- 
est apples  of  her  garden.  All  this  was  going  on  in 
her  mind  whilst  yet  not  six  years  old ;  and  so  her  hfe 
divided  itself  between  the  homely  exterior  labour  and 
rough  discipline  of  a  peasant  lire,  and  an  interior  of 
spiritual  contemplation,  wherein  were  revealed  to  her 
many  of  the  profoundest  secrets  of  mystic  theology. 
The  world  became  to  her  a  ])Ook  written  within  and 
without  with  the  name  of  God ;  all  creatm-es  talked  to 
her  of  Him.  And  this  was  sometimes  permitted  to  be 
manifested  in  extraordinary  ways ;  as  once,  when  walk- 
ing by  the  side  of  a  lake  near  their  cottage,  the  thought 
suggested  itself  that  the  fish,  being  creatm-es  of  God, 
must  be  obedient  to  Him,  and  ready  to  do  Him  sei-vice. 
Therefore  she  stood  by  the  water-side,  and  called  them 
to  come  and  help  her  whilst  she  sang  His  praises ;  and 
the  fish,  swimming  to  the  shore,  did  so  after  their  kind, 
leaping  and  jumping  about  out  of  the  water;  while  she 
sat  on  the  grass,  and  sang  a  little  song  which  she  had 
learnt,  and  was  fond  of  repeating  to  herself  over  her 
work  in  the  garden. 

One  day  she  was  ill,  and  her  mother  desired  her  to 
eat  some  meat,  which  she  did,  although  it  was  Friday ; 
and  afterwards  felt  great  scruples,  fearing  she  had  com- 
mitted a  gTeat  sin.  She  had  never  yet  been  to  confes- 
sion, being  under  the  age  when  it  is  usual  for  children 
to  confess.  But  she  now  felt  very  anxious  to  relieve  her 
conscience  of  this  weight;  only,  being  confined  to  her 
bed.  she  could  not  get  to  the  church;  nor  did  she  dare 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADISO. 


165 


she 
had 


lO  ask  her  mother  to  send  for  the  piiest.  She  therefore 
considered  within  herself  what  she  should  do ;  and  she 
remembered  to  have  seen  the  people  in  the  church  not 
only  kneeling  in  the  confessionals,  but  also  before  the 
crucifixes  and  devout  images  on  the  altare ;  and  in  her 
simplicity,  she  thought  that  they  were  likewise  confess- 
ing- their  sins  to  them.  Now  there  was  a  httle  picture 
of  the  Madonna  holding  the  Holy  Child  in  her  arms, 
which  hung  in  her  room,  and  Dominica  thought  she 
could  confess  to  this ;  therefore,  getting  out  of  bed,  she 
knelt  down  devoutly  before  it,  and  confessed  her  fault 
in  eating  the  meat  with  many  tears,  praying  the  little 
Jesus  to  give  her  absolution  for  her  fault,  which  she 
thought  He  would  do  by  placin"*  His  hand  on  her  head, 
as  she  had  seen  the  old  priest  do  to  the  little  children 
of  the  village.  But  when  she  had  knelt  a  long  time, 
and  saw  that  the  image  did  not  move,  she  became  very 
unhappy,  and  prayed  all  the  harder  that  He  would  not 
deny  her  absolution,  but  would  give  her  the  sign  she 
asked  for.  Then  it  pleased  our  Lord  to  gi-ant  her  the 
answer  which  her  simple  confidence  extorted  from  Him; 
and  the  fig-ures  of  the  Mother  and  the  Son  raised  th(!ir 
hands,  and  placed  them  on  the  child's  head,  who  re- 
mained filled  with  dehght  at  the  thought  that  her  ^ins 
were  now  forgiven  her,  and  her  conscience  at  rest. 

After  this  her  mother  took  her  once  a  year  to  con- 
fession in  the  church.  It  grieved  her  much  not  to  be 
able  to  go  oftener;  but  her  angel-guardian  taught  her 
to  submit  in  this  matter  to  her  mother's  pleasure,  and 
to  supply  the  place  of  more  frequent  confession  by 
every  evening  examining  her  conscience,  and  confessing 
her  daily  faults  before  the  same  picture  as  before.  Nor 
was  this  the  only  teachino^  which  she  received  from 
him;  he  taught  lier  that  tlie  path  to  Paradise  was  a 
way  of  suffering* ;  and  that  they  who  aspired  to  the 
mystic  nuptials  of  Christ  were  careful  to  clothe  them- 
Fi'lves  with  the  livery  of  the  cross.  And  Dominica,  in 
o])edience  to  these  instructions,  began  to  afflict  her  body 
with  fasts  and  other  austerities,  and  gave  the  food 


166 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


which  she  saved  from  her  own  dinner  to  the  poor.  She 
ever  showed  great  devotion  to  the  Blessed  Vii-gin,  es- 
pecially after  the  circumstances  narrated  above ;  and 
made  it  her  particular  duty  to  light  the  lamp  before 
her  pictm-e  every  Saturday,  and  to  garland  it  with 
flowers  on  that  Jay,  as  being  specially  dedicated  to  her. 
On  one  of  these  occasions,  Mary  appeared  to  her  with 
her  Divine  Child  in  her  arms,  and  promised  her  that  in 
reward  for  her  devotion  she  should  one  day  become 
His  spouse,  but  not  until  she  had  grown  further  in  per- 
fection and  in  His  love.  This  promise  became  thence- 
forth the  absorbing  subject  of  her  thoughts;  and  at 
seven  yeai-s  of  age  she  consecrated  herself  to  Him, 
whom  from  that  hour  she  considered  her  Spouse,  by  a 
solemn  vow,  cutting  off  her  beautifid  golden  hair,  as 
she  underetood  the  custom  was,  and  offering  it  to  her 
Lord.  When  her  mother  saw  her  hair  cut  off,  she  was 
gTeatly  displeased,  and  commanded  her  to  suffer  it  to 

Sow  again,  and  not  to  attempt  to  cut  it  a  second  time, 
ominica  obeyed;  but  she  secretly  pmyed  that  God 
would  send  her  some  infirmity  of  the  head,  which 
might  prevent  the  growth  of  the  hair.  And  this  indeed 
happened ;  so  that  the  head  remained  closely  cut  until 
her  fifteenth  year,  when  it  was  cured,  and  miraculously 
crowned,  as  we  shall  see,  by  God. 

Our  Blessed  Ladv  verv  often  favom-ed  her  with  her 
visible  presence ;  but  on  these  occasions  she  appeared 
alone,  and  without  her  Son.  Dominica  was  greatly 
grieved  at  the  absence  of  her  Lord,  and  at  length  one 
day  resolved  to  ask  the  Blessed  Virgin  the  reason 
why  He  never  came.  "  0  Divine  Lady,"  she  said, 
"  you  come  very  oft^n  to  see  me  and  talk  to  me ;  but 
you  never  bring  Him  who  is  to  be  my  Spouse ;  why 
IS  this,  for  it  grieves  me  that  I  never  see  Him? 
Then  our  Lady,  smiling  on  her,  showed  her  the  Holy 
Infant  sleeping  in  her  bo.'om.  Dominica  was  delighted 
nt  the  sijrht.     "  But  how  very  small  He  is !"  she  ex- 


claimed     "  He  will  grow,"  replied  Mary,  "  when  you 

will;     and  as  she  spoke,  Do* 


will,  and  as  mueh  as  you  will : 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


107 


minica  perceived  that  He  was  already  much  larj^r. 
"  Ah !  He  is  already  growing,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  now 
He  is  twice  the  size  He  was! — how  is  that?"  "He 
grows  with  your  growth,"  ag-ain  repUed  Mary;  "and 
your  gi'owth  must  be  not  in  the  flesh,  but  in  the  spu-it: 
when  you  have  attained  to  yoiur  ftill  growth  in  holmess, 
He  will  come  and  celebrate  those  espousals  which  you 
desire  so  much."  Then  the  Child  extended  His  hand 
to  Dominica  as  a  token  of  His  renewed  promise ;  and 
the  vision  disappeared.  She  remained  very  sad  and 
disconsolate ;  and  her  ^'ief,  when  she  thought  of  the 
loveliness  of  Jesus,  and  the  long"  time  that  was  yet  to 
elapse  before  His  promise  could  be  fiilfilled,  became  so 
poignant,  that  she  fell  ill,  and  spent  eig-ht  days  in  con- 
tinual tears  and  sorrow  of  heart.  This  abandonment  of 
her  soul  to  grief  was  by  no  means  pleasing  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  who  appeared  again  at  the  end  of  the 
eight  days,  and  gave  her  a  sharp  reproof  for  her  want  of 
resignation.  "  Daughter,"  she  said,  "  you  grieve  for  the 
l^ss  of  sensible  consolations;  but  know  this,  that  to 
those  who  attach  themselves  to  such  things,  visions,  and 
revelations,  and  the  sensible  presence  of  the  Beloved, 
are  not  blessings  but  evils :  wherefore  put  away  your 
sorrow,  and  serve  God  with  a  joyful  and  contented 
heart."  "  But  how  can  I  be  joyral,"  said  the  weeping 
child,  "whilst  I  am  so  far  from  my  Spouse  and  His 
palace,  and  still  1-ept  a  prisoner  in  this  vale  of  tears?" 
Then  the  merciful  heart  of  Mary  was  moved  with  pity, 
and  she  said,  "  Follow  me  with  your  eyes,  and  you 
shall  see  a  glimpse  of  the  country  where  He  dwells ;" 
and  so  saying>  she  rose  towards  heaven  before  her  eyes. 
Dominica  watched  her  as  she  had  said,  and  she  ■'aw 
how  tlie  heavens  opened  to  receive  their  queen;  and 
caught  througli  the  parted  doors  of  those  celestial 
regions  something  of  the  glory  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 
She  saw  her  pass  on  through  the  countlesr,  choirs  of  the 
angels,  till  she  camf  close  to  t!ie  throne  of  God ;  and  in 
tlie  midst  of  the  nniij)jnoaeliable  liglit  she  saw  tlie  Child 
Jesus,  more  bouutiliil  and 


glorious  than  she  hud  ever 


168 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


seen  Him  before;  and  then,  even  as  slie  g-azed  on  Him, 
forg'etting"  all  beside,  the  golden  g*ates  closed  on  the 
scene,  and  shut  it  from  her  eyes.  Now  when  Dominica 
looked  round,  and  saw  that  it  had  all  passed  away,  she 
remained  full  of  an  unspeakable  longing"  to  reach  that 
glorious  country,  or  at  least  to  see  it  once  ag-ain.  She 
kept  her  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  the  sky,  for  she 
t/iought  perhaps  it  mig'ht  once  more  open;  and  in  hnr 
simplicity  she  thoug-ht  she  should  be  nearer  to  her 
Lord,  and  to  the  beauty  amid  which  He  dwelt,  on  high 
places :  therefore,  at  nig'ht,  when  all  the  family  were 
asleep,'  she  rose  softly,  and  taking*  a  ladder,  mounted  to 
tlie  roof,  yrhere  she  spent  the  nig'ht  in  prayer,  looking* 
wistfully  at  the  stars,  which  she  thought  were  at  least 
little  sparks  of  that  great  giorv  which  had  been  revealed 
to  her.  And  having  repeated  this  several  times,  it  pleased 
God  more  than  once  to  open  the  vision  of  heaven  to 
her  again ;  so  that  she  came  to  have  a  familiarity  with 
that  blessed  place,  and  to  know  the  choirs  of  angels  one 
from  another,  and  to  tell  the  different  degrees  of  tho 
blessed  by  the  crowns  they  wore,  and  many  ether  mys- 
teries which,  whilst  she  beheld,  she  as  yet  did  not  fidly 
comprehend. 

»  When  Easter  came,  her  mother  took  her  to  church, 
and  she  saw  all  th«  people  going  to  Communion,  and 
grieved  much  to  think  she  was  too  young  to  be  suffered 
to  approach  with  them.  It  seemed  also  very  strange 
to  her  that  they  should  come  to  so  wonderful  a  ban- 
quet, and  go  away  again,  just  as  if  nothing  Iiad  hap- 
])3ned  to  them ;  and  she  thought  it  would  not  be  so 
with  her :  for,  indeed,  whenever  she  was  present  at  Mass, 
and  the  priest  elevated  the  Sacred  Host  before  her 
eyes,  she  saw  the  visible  person  of  her  divine  Spouse, 
adorned  with  so  wonderful  a  beauty  that  it  seemed 
marvellous  to  her  that  no  one  else  seemed  moved  by 
tlie  sight ;  and  slit.  jJ-liought  that  all  saw  what  she  saw, 
and  never  dreamt  that  it  was  a  revelation  gTantci  to 
her  eyes  alone.  And  once,  as  she  thus  reasoned  within 
he:«elf,  and  looked  sorrowfully  on  th:  crowds  who  wei-e 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO 


169 


red 
ig-e 


ler 
use, 


aw, 

to 

bin 

reve 


going"  to  receive  a  happiness  which  was  denied  to  her, 
the  Lord  of  her  soul  Himself  drew  nea?  to  eomfoit  her 
with  a  foretaste  of  His  presence,  and  Dominica  felt  on 
her  tongue  a  drop  of  His  precious  Blood. 

Autunm  brought  the  harvest,  and  with  it  hard 
work  in  the  fields  for  Dominica,  whose  prayers  and 
visions  never  inten-upted  hei  life  of  daily  labour.  She 
was  one  day  in  the  fields  watching  thera  burn  the 
stubble,  and  helping  to  heap  the  loads  of  straw  and 
rubbish  on  to  the  fire.  Wiuii  childlike  glee,  sl:u 
danced  and  clapped  her  hands  to  see  the  flames  leap- 
ing "ligh  into  the  air ;  ^nd  she  thought  to  herself  that 
the  fire  was  like  Divine  love,  and  longed  that  her  own 
heart  could  be  consumed  in  its  fla'iies  like  the  worthless 
straw.  Then  the  voice  of  her  Spouse  spoke  within  her 
ind  said,  "  What  would  you  do,  Dominica,  if  you  saw 
yom'  Spouse  in  the  midst  of  those  flames  ?"  And  she 
answered,  "  I  would  run  to  Him  and  embrace  Him.'* 
"  But,"  replied  the  voice,  "  would  you  not  fear  the  fire^ 
do  you  not  remember  how  terrible  was  the  pain  when 
your  sister  burnt  her  hand  ?"  And  even  at  that  mo- 
ment Dominica  saw  through  the  flames,  how  a  beauti- 
ful lady  entered  the  field  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire, 
leading  a  child  of  surpassing  loveliness  by  the  hand. 
As  she  looked  at  them  the  lady  spoke  to  her  :  "  Do- 
minica," she  said,  "  why  are  you  here,  and  what  do  you 
seek  ?"  And  Dominica  replied,  "  I  am  looking  at  the 
flames,  and  I  am  seeking  for  God  in  them  !"  "  God." 
answered  the  lady,  "  is  very  near  you,  and  yet  you  do 
not  know  Him."  Then  her  eyes  opened,  and  she  knew 
that  she  had  been  speaking  to  no  other  than  Jesus  and 
Mary;  and  forgetting  the  fire  and  her  own  danger, 
and  all  but  the  presence  of  her  Beloved,  she  ran  through 
the  flames  to  the  other  side,  and  cast  herself  at  Hisi 
feet.  In  doing  this  she  was  severely  burnt,  for  her 
legs  and  arms  were  bare  like  other  peasant  cliildren  ; 
but  Dominica  did  not  feel  tiie  pain,  for  she  was  gazing 
on  her  Lord.  And  the  glorious  Child  took  her  lovingly 
by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  0  Dominica,  thou  hast  con* 


170 


DOMXNICA  OF  PARADISO. 


queied  flames  for  the  love  of  IMe ;  therefore  shalt  thou 
ever  uhide  in  jMv  gT-ace,  and  shalt  dwell  with  Me  for 
ever."  Then  He  blessed  her;  and  •isappearing"  from 
sig'ht,  Dominica  was  ag*aiii  alone.  On  looking  round 
her,  slie  found  that  it  was  quite  dark,  and  the  stors  were 
shining"  hrig-htly ;  for  the  moments  tliat  had  seemed  to 
her  to  fly  so  qu?>kly  had  indeed  been  houre,  and  it 
was  now  nig'ht.  She  begxin  to  be  very  frightened, 
knowing-  that  her  absence  would  cause  great  alarm ; 
hut  we  are  assured  that,  on  returning'  in  the  morning, 
she  found  she  had  not  been  missed,  her  angel-g-uar- 
dian  having*  taken  her  form,  and  dischargea  ah  the 
household  offices  which  it  was  her  duty  to  perform. 

On  another  occasion,  she  was  as  usual  at  work  in 
the  garden,  whilst  her  brothers  were  bringing  in  a  load 
of  maniu-e  which  smelt  very  ofi«nsive.  The  habit  of 
drawing  spiritual  meanings  from  all  external  objects 
had  become  so  completely  second  nature  to  Dominica, 
that  her  thoughts  seem  to  have  shaped  themselves  into 
these  analogies  on  all  occasions.  The  bad  smell  there- 
fore suggested  t^  her  mind  an  ima»e  of  mortal  sin,  and 
she  prayed  that  she  might  be  tauirht  in  some  way  how 
it  appeared  in  the  eyes*  of  God.  At  ibat  moment  a 
soldier  entered  the  curden  for  the  purpose  of  pur- 
chasing some  vegetables,  and  Dominica  perceived  that 
his  soul  was  very  oflensive  in  the  sight  of  God.  She 
looked  in  his  face,  and  it  seemed  to  her  so  disfigured 
by  foi  1  and  monstrous  deformity,  that  she  was  moved 
with  a  deep  compassion  for  him ;  she  prayed  therefore 
very  earnestly,  that  God  would  give  him  t)u'.  gmce  of 
conversion,  and  save  him  from  his  miserable  state.  She 
longed  to  say  something  to  him;  but  not  daring  to 
address  him,  she  remained  before  him,  still  looking  uj) 
in  his  face,  and  weeping  bitterly.  Her  manner  at 
length  drew  his  attention,  and  he  asked  her  what  was 
the  matter,  and  wliy  she  kept  thus  looking  at  him  and 
weeping.  "  I  weep,"  she  answered,  "  because  your 
soul  is  so  ugly;  you  must  certainly  be  very  unhappy. 
How  is  it  you  do  not  remember  the  Precious  BJo«jd 


up 
at 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADISO.  171 

wliicli  redeemed  you  from  the  power  of  the  devil  ? 
Do  you  not  see  the  bow  bent,  and  the  arrow  ready  to 
tiy  ?  "  What  bow,  and  wliafc  aiTOW,  are  you  talking 
of'i"'  said  the  astonished  man.  "The  bow,"  replied 
the  cliild,  "is  divine  justice,  and  the  ai-rovv  is  death  and 
the  judgment,  which  will  certainly  overtake  yo  i  if  you 
do  not  chang-e  your  wicked  life  and  become  a  g-ood 
man."  she  spoke,   the   simplicity  of  her  words 

fairly  co..  ^uered  the  obdurate  heart  to  which  they  were 
addressed.  With  tears  rolling*  down  his  cheeks,  he 
knelt  before  her,  and  confessed  he  was  indeed  an  enor- 
mous sinner,  who  deserved  nothing  but  hell ;  but  that  if 
she  would  help  him  with  her  prayers,  he  would  go  that 
very  day  to  confession,  and  begin  a  new  life;  and  with 
this  promise  he  left  her.  J'or  eight  days  Dominica 
continued  in  very  earnest  prayer  for  him,  in  spite  of 
unheard-of  troubles  and  persecutions  of  the  devils ;  but 
on  the  eig'hth  she  knew  that  her  prayers  had  been 
heard,  for  she  saw  his  soul  white  and  clean  like  that  of 
a  newly-baptised  child  j  and  he  himself  came  to  thank 
lier  for  the  grace  she  had  obtained  for  him,  and  by 
means  of  which  he  had  been  enabled  to  make  a  g-ood 
and  contrite  confession.  He  told  her,  moreover,  that 
he  was  resolved  to  leave  the  world  and  retire  to  a  lier- 
mitag'e,  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  penance  j 
but  prayed  her,  before  he  went,  at  least  to  g^ve  liim 
lier  blessing'.  This  request  puzzled  Dominica ;  and  she 
replied  she  would  reaaily  ol)lig"e  lym,  but  she  did  not 
knoav  how.  Then  her  angel  raised  her  little  hand,  and 
g-uided  it  to  sign  the  sign  of  the  Cross  above  his  head ; 
and  a  voice  which  was  not  hers  said  for  her,  "  May 
God  bless  thee  in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to 
come."  Fourteen  years  after,  this  man  died  in  his  her- 
mitnge,  with  the  reputation  of  sanctity. 

J'his  first  convei*sion  awoke  in  her  soul  an  ardent 
thirst  for  the  salvation  of  sinners.  It  was  a  new  feel- 
ing, and  to  her  quick  and  sensitive  soul  one  which  soon 
became  wholly  absorbing.  Hapjiening  about  this  time 
to  see  a  little  picture  represent!  ig  the  suft'erings  of  tha 


irs 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADtSO. 


poiils  in  hell,  she  was  ^-eatly  touched  with  cotnpns- 
sion,  and  innocently  piavcjd  God  to  relieve  them  and 
set  them  free.  Then  iier  faithful  guardian  instructed 
her  on  this  matter,  and  taught  her  that  the  only  way 
to  save  souls  from  hell  was,  to  prevent  sin  and  convert 
sinners  by  her  prayers.  And  to  increase  her  zeal  he 
showed  her,  not  a  picture,  hut  the  real  sufferings  of  the 
lojt  souls  J  and  the  sentiments  of  pity  which  these  ex- 
cited were  so  lively,  that  a  desire  awoke  within  her  to 
suffei*  something  in  her  own  body,  in  order  to  save 
other  souls  from  these  terrible  flames.  And  with  the 
idea  of  experiencing  something  of  a  like  kind  of  suffer- 
ing, she  took  a  lighted  torch,  and  courageously  held  it 
to  her  shoulder  till  the  flesh  was  burnt,  whicn  caused 
her  agonies  of  pain  for  many  days.  These,  however, 
she  had  self-command  enouffh  to  conceal,  in  spite  of 
some  emotions  of  very  natural  alarm,  which  determined 
her  to  find  out  if  possible  some  other  less  dangerous 
method  of  afflicting  her  body.  She  even  prayed  God 
to  teach  her  in  what  way  she  should  do  this ;  and  one 
day  seeing  a  picture  in  the  church  of  St.  John  Baptist 
clothed  in  his  g*arment  of  camel's  hair,  the  thought  was 
suggested  to  her  mind  of  forming  some  such  garment 
for  herself  out  of  horsehair;  which  she  accordingly  did, 
and  wore  it  for  nine?  years.  And  here  one  can  hardly 
fail  to  admire  the  means  by  which,  step  by  step,  she  was 
led  on  in  the  path  of  a  saintly  life.  Human  teaching 
she  had  none;  she  had  probably  never  seen  a  book: 
but  yet  we  see  how  the  commonest  incidents  and  ace' 
dents,  being  accompanied  by  God's  grace,  were  enough 
to  reveal  the  secrets  of  His  counsels  to  her  soul.  A 
picture,  or  a  chance  woi-d,  or  the  thought  which  rose 
spontaneously  out  of  some  image  of  the  visible  things 
around  her,  wpre  food  enough  for  a  soul  which  lit«ralTy 
"waited  continually  upon  God;"  it  drew  sustenance 
and  life  out  of  what  seemed  ihe  very  barrenest  desert. 

From  this  time  commenced  a  new  life  of  austerity, 
so  rigorous  and  continual,  that  extraoi'dinary  strength 
must  have  been  supplied  to  have  enabled  mr  to  fiv6 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


173 


under  tlie  j)erpetual  tortures  slie  inflicted  on  her  inno- 
cent flesh.  And  thonjifh  m  the  details  of  these  austeri- 
ties we  find  many  tliing-s  precisely  similar  to  tiiose 
"elated  of  other  saints,  vet  it  is  certain  that  their  lives 
and  examples  were  wholly  unknown  to  her,  and  there- 
fore that  in  this  matter  she  must  have  followed  the 
instinct  of  her  own  devotion,  g^iided  by  the  Spirit  of 
God.  But,  agtiin,  we  observe  how  she  was  directed 
by  that  quick  and  watchful  eye  of  the  soul  which  lef. 
nothing'  escape  its  vigilance; — a  coaree  and  common 
print  of  the  Scourging  of  our  Divine  Lord,  once  seen, 
was  enough  to  teach  Dominica  those  sharp  disciplines 
to  blood  in  which  she  persevered  during  the  remainder 
of  her  life. 

We  pass  over  the  account  of  many  temptations  and 
apparitions  of  evil  sjnrits,  to  give  the  story  of  one  vision 
with  which  she  was  favoured,  whose  beauty  can  perhaps 
scarcely  be  equalled  by  any  similar  incident  to  be  met 
with  in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints.  It  has  been  said  that 
she  was  accustomed  to  observe  Saturday  as  f*.  day  of 
special  devotion  in  honour  of  the  Madonna,  wh'^se  imago 
on  that  day  had  its  garland  of  fi-esh  flower?^  hung  up, 
and  its  little  lamp  brightly  burning  in  the  nidst.  Now 
it  happened  that  one  Saturday.  Dominica  hud  taken  un- 
usual care  in  the  decoration  of  her  little  image ;  she  had 
picked  hf^  choicest  flowei-s,  and  hun"*  them  in  wreaths 
and  bunches  which  took  her  some  little  time  to  arrano;e. 
But  her  trouble  was  well  rewarded;  for  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin reached  out  her  hand  and  took  some  of  the  tiowei-s, 
and  smelt  them,  and  then  gp.ve  them  to  her  Son,  that  lie 
might  smell  them  likewise.  Dominica,  fnll  of  delight, 
besought  them  ever  thus  io  gmell  her  flowers,  and  to  for- 
get the  unwoi-thiness  of  her  who  offered  them.  And  then 
she  remembered  that  she  could  not  stand  there  looking  at 
her  beloved  Madonna  any  longer ;  for  it  was  the  hour 
when  she  was  accustomed  to  go  to  the  cottage-door  with 
the  scraps  she  had  saved  fi'om  her  dinner,  that  she  might 
give  alms  to  any  poor  beggar  who  should  be  passing 
by.    Accoi'dingly,  she  ran  to  the  door  with  her  basket 


174 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADI80. 


of  broken  bread,  and  waited  patiently  till  some  object 
of  charity  should  puss  that  way.  At  leng^th  she  per- 
ceived a  woman  ai)proaching',  leading-  a  child  by  the 
hand.  By  their  dress  she  saw  that  they  were  very 
poor;  yet  there  was  an  air  of  dignity,  almost  of  majesty, 
m  the  manner  and  appearance  of  both.  They  came  up 
to  the  spot  where  she  stood  ;  and  t^e  child,  addressin<>f 
himself  to  her  with  a  certain  gTacious  sweetness,  held 
out  his  hands,  as  if  begging,  and  said,  "  You  will  cer- 
tainly give  me  something-,  my  good  little  peasant  girl?*' 
And  as  he  did  so,  she  perceived  that  in  either  hand  there 
was  a  larg-e  open  wound ;  and  that  his  dress  was  likewise 
covered  with  blood,  as  from  a  iiesli  wound  in  his  side. 
Touched  with  compassion,  she  IniAe  them  wait  whilst 
she  entered  the  house  for  something  to  give  them ,  ^ut 
she  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  she  perceived  that  they 
were  by  her  side.  "  Ah ! "  said  Dominica,  "  what  have 
you  done !  if  my  mother  knows  I  have  let  any  one  in, 
she  will  never  forgive  me."  "  Fear  nothing,"  said  the 
woman ;  "  we  shall  do  no  harm,  and  no  one  will  see  us." 
Then  Dominica  saw  that  the  child's  feet  were  likewise 
bleeding- ;  and  pitying  him  very  much,  she  said, "  How 
can  your  son  walk  on  tl>e  rough  roads  with  those 
wounded  feet  of  his  ?"  And  his  mother  replied,  "  The 
child's  love  is  so  great,  he  never  complains  of  himself." 
Now  as  they  were  thus  talking;,  the  child  was  looking 
at  the  imagfe  g:arlanded  with  the  lovely  fresh  roses; 
and  with  a  winning-  and  innocent  grace  ne  held  up  his 
little  hands  and  asked  for  some  of  the  flowers :  and 
Dominica  could  not  refuse  to  give  them  to  him;  for 
spite  of  their  poor  rags,  there  was  something-  about  her 
strange  visitors  which  captivated  her  heart.  And  the 
mother  took  the  roses,  and  smelt  them,  and  gave  them 
to  her  son  ;  and  turning  to  Dominica,  she  said,  "  Why 
do  you  garland  that  image  with  Jowers  ?  it  would 
seem  as  if  you  cared  for  it  very  much."  "It  is  the 
Madonna  and  the  Holy  Child  Jesus,"  answered  Domi- 
nica; **and  I  give  them  my  flowere  because  I  love 
them  dearly."    "  And  how  much  do  you  love  them  f* 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


175 


eontinucd  tlie  woman.  "  As  much  ns  I  can,"  said  Do- 
minica. "And  how  nmcli  is  that/"  snid  the  woman 
ag'ain.  "Ah!"  repHed  Dominica,  "it  is  as  much  as 
they  help  me  too."  liut  still  as  she  spoke  she  could 
not  take  her  eyes  off  the  child;  for  his  extraordinar^)' 
grace  and  heauty  filled  her  with  an  emotion  she  coulri 
not  comprehend.  "  Why  do  you  stind  thus  gazing'  at 
my  son?"  said  the  woman;  "wh.»t  do  you  see  in 
him?"  "He  is  such  a  beautiful  child,"  said  Domi- 
nica ;  and  she  leant  over  him  to  caress  him.  But  she 
started  back  with  sui-prise,  for  those  wounds  gave  forth 
a  wonderfid  odour,  as  of  Paradise ;  and  turning,  to  the 
woman,  she  exclaimed,  "  Mother  of  God !  what  is  this  ? 
with  what  do  you  anoint  your  son's  wounds,  for  the 
odour  of  them  is  sweeter  than  my  sweetest  flowers? ' 
"  It  is  the  ointment  of  charity,"  said  the  mother ;  but 
Dominica  scarcely  heard  the  reply :  she  was  still  gazing 
at  the  child,  and  trying  to  attract  his  notice,  as  tlio 
manner  is  with  chilaren.  "Come  to  me,  my  child," 
she  said,  "and  I  will  give  you  this  piece  of  bread." 
"  It  is  of  no  use,"  said  the  mother ;  "  tell  him  of  Jesus, 
and  how  you  love  Him,  and  the  cliild  will  come  readily 
enough. '  And  at  the  words  he  did  indeed  come ;  and 
looking  up  sweetly  into  Dominica's  face,  he  asked, 
"And  do  you  really  love  Jesus?"  And  that  sweet 
odour  became  so  marvellously  powerful,  that  she  was 
yet  more  filled  with  surprise ;  and  she  said,  "  0  beau- 
tiiiil  child,  what  wonder  is  this  ?  if  your  wounds  give 
foi-th  this  delicious  perfume,  what  will  the  perftime  of 
Paradise  be  like  ?"  "  Do  not  wonder,"  said  the  mother, 
"  that  the  pei-fiime  of  Paradise  should  be  where  God 
is  ;"  and  then  the  blindness  fell  from  her  eyes,  and  she 
knew  that  she  was  talking  to  none  other  than  to  Jesus 
and  Mary.  And  even  at  that  moment  the  poor  rags 
fell  off  tliem,  and  she  saw  them  dressed  in  royal  robes 
of  surpassing  splendour ;  and  the  Child  Jesus  gi-ew  to 
the  stature  of  a  man,  and  His  face  shone  with  the  oright- 
ness  of  the  sun,  whilst  over  the  wound  of  His  side 
there  gleamed  the  radiance  of  a  brilliant  star. 


176 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


Dominica  fell  prostrate  at  their  feet  as  they  rose 
into  the  air;  and  taking"  the  roses  from  His  mother's 
bosom,  the  Divine  Si)ouse  scattered  them  over  the  head 
nnd  gtirments  of  ilis  heloved,  and  said,  "  0  Mv 
spouse !  thou  hast  adorned  My  imag'e  with  giirlantis 
and  roses,  and  therefore  do  I  sprinkle  thee  with  these 
flowers,  as  an  eaniest  of  the  everlasting*  garland  with 
which  I  will  crown  thee  in  Paratlise ;"  and  so  saying*, 
they  both  disappeared.  Dominica  strove  in  vain  to  fol- 
low them  with  ner  eyes ;  but  for  eight  days  after  there 
remained  the  periiime  of  the  wounds,  and  her  head  and 
dress  were  seen  covered  with  flowers. 

At  lenffth  she  arrived  at  the  ag*e  when  it  is  custom- 
ary for  children  to  make  their  first  Communion;  and  her 
mother,  therefore,  took  her  during  Lent  to  the  priest, 
that  he  mig;ht  examine  and  prepare  her  for  that  pur- 
pose. A  very  few  words  satisfied  him  that  she  was 
full  of  Divine  grace,  and  he  accordingly  desired  her  to 
go  to  communion  at  the  approaching  Easter,  which  was 
considerably  sooner  than  her  mother  had  intended. 
"How  can  I  do  so?"  said  Dominica;  "I  am  only 
eleven  years  old,  and  my  mother  is  used  to  say,  *  Chil- 
dren should  not  go  to  Communion  till  they  are  twelve.' 
Moreover,  there  are  but  three  weeks  to  Easter,  and  in 
that  short  time  I  can  never  prepare  fitly  to  receive  our 
Lord ; "  and  so  saying,  she  began  to  weep.  Never- 
theless, the  priest  laid  her  under  obedience  to  do  as  he 
had  said,  and  sent  her  away ;  and  Dominica  returned 
home  with  her  thoughts  full  of  this  weighty  matter 
of  the  three  weeks  of  preparation.  Now  the  dignity 
of  the  Holy  Sacrament  appeared  to  her  so  very  gi-eat, 
that  she  thought  a  year  would  be  too  little  to  make 
ready  the  chamber  of  her  heart ;  and  tliinking  how  she 
could  make  the  most  of  the  short  time  allowed  her, 
she  determined  not  to  go  to  bed  for  that  time,  but 
to  remain  in  prever  and  meditation  dl  night,  that  she 
might  make  the  w  eeks  longer ;  for,  indeed,  she  was  so 
simply  impressea  with  the  conviction  of  her  own  vile- 
ness,  that  she  dreaded  lest  the  Sacred  Host  should  dis* 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADISO. 


177 


Appear,  or  some  otlier  tokon  of  Divine  displensiire  <i1ion](l 
be  evinced,  if  she  approached  "without  much  pirpnnitiou 
and  examination  of  licart.  So,  as  we  have  ^uid,  she 
never  went  to  hcd;  liut  remained  kneeHnf^  and  praying' 
all  nig'ht,  examininj^  her  innocent  conscience,  and  ^oinj*; 
over  a  worhl  of  resohiticms  and  forms  of  prejmmtion, 
which  she  heUeved  were  necessary  to  ))«  g-ot  throug-h  in 
the  time.  It  was  a  cliiUl's  simph>  thouglit ; — w«i  hjve 
Dominica  all  the  hetter  for  the  chihlishness  that  forgot 
that  its  excellent  resolve  was  an  impossihle  one  for  tlesh 
and  blood  to  keej); — for  very  often  the  poor  little  g-irl 
was  conmiered  by  weariness,  and  fell  asleep  in  the 
midst  of  ner  long  prayers,  and  in  spite  of  her  manful 
efforts  to  keep  awake ;  and  then  she  would  try  to  rouse 
herself  with  the  tiiought  of  her  prepamtion  for  Commu- 
nion, ond  begin  all  over  ag-ain,  with  a  kind  of  neiTous 
terror  that  the  time  would  be  too  short  after  all. 

At  length  Ilolv  Week  came,  and  her  mother  took 
her  to  Florence  to  liear  the  proachin^  of  the  Passion  at 
the  gr(  at  church  of  St.  Repamta.  It  was  a  new  life 
to  Dominica  :  seated  by  her  mother's  side,  she  drank  in 
every  word  of  the  imj)assione(l  eloquence  of  the  preacher; 
and  with  her  usuid  innocence,  believet^that  Christ  would 
really  visiblj-^  appar,  and  suffer  before  the  eyes  of  the 
people  as  He  did  on  CaUary.  And  when  the  pi*eacher 
said,  "  yesterday  He  was  beti-ayfd,"  and  "  to-day  He  is 
led  to  death,"  she  believed  he  spoke  litemlly ;  for  she  had 
not  learnt  to  underetand  metaphors  better  than  when,  a 
child  of  four  yeai-s  old,  she  had  desired  to  know  the  kind 
of  bed  that  the  angels  sle[»t  on.  And,  indeed,  the  S|)ec- 
tacle  was  given  to  her  eyes,  and  she  saw  the  scene  of 
the  Crucifixion,  and  how  Mary  stood  beneath  the  Cross, 
and  how  Nicodemus  took  down  the  Sacred  Body  and 
laid  it  in  her  arms.  She  saw  it,  as  it  were,  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd  of  people  who  stood  round  her,  and  won- 
dered how  they  looked  so  imconcerned ;  and  she  hei-self 
long-ed  to  push  her  way  through  them  to  get  nearer  to 
her  dying  Lord;  but  the  crowd  kept  her  back.  Thcn^ 
when  she  got  back  to  her  own  room  at  home,  she  knelt 


178 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


down  lyj  think  of  what  she  had  witnessed ;  and  the 
Blessed  Virj»in  appeared  to  her,  and  tang'ht  her  tlmt  it 
had  been  1)ut  a  vision,  and  one  revealed  to  lier  alone, 
and  not  to  the  people,  Dominica  then  told  her  all  her 
fears  that  her  preparation  had  heen  too  short ;  that  our 
Lord  would  certainly  never  allow  her  to  come  to  Him ; 
and  that  she  was  so  unworthy  and  imfit  to  communi- 
cate, she  should  drive  Him  out  of  the  church.  But 
Mary  comforted  her,  and  assured  her  that  the  tears  of 
contrition  she  had  shed  "'^ere  all  the  preparation  Ho  re- 
fjuired. 

When  Dominica  heard  this  she  was  a  little  consoled; 
jet  her  fear  lest  the  Sacred  Host  should  indeed  fly 
n-om  her  as  unworthy  was  so  great,  that  she  spent  Holy 
Saturday  in  incessant  prayer,  promising*  pilgrimag-es, 
fasts  on  bread  and  water,  and  every  devotion  she  could 
remember,  if  only  our  Lord  would  deigTi  t  remain  with 
her  on  the  following  day.  Thus  tie  whole  nig-ht  passed, 
and  in  the  morning*  she  wenl.  pii'i  and  trembling  to  the 
church  to  receive  Holy  Communion  with  her  mother. 


Her 


agitation 


increased   every  moment :    but   at 


length  it  was  her  turn  to  go  up  to  the  altar  steps.  She 
did  so,  and  the  priest  came  to  her  and  pronounced  the 
customary  words ;  but  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  him : 
he  bent  down  over  her  to  rouse  her  from  her  stupor;  nnd 
it  was  not  till  he  had  shaken  her  by  her  dress  that  she 
was  sufficiently  recovered  to  receive.  Yet  this  was  not 
an  emotiim  of  terror,  but  an  ecstasy  of  joy ;  for  at  that 
moment  her  fears  and  scruples  liad  been  removed  by 
the  sight  of  the  Sacred  Host,  not  flying  from  her  as  she 
had  feared,  but  shining  like  a  glorious  sun,  whose  biii- 
liant  rays  overpowered  her  by  their  excessive  lustre 

It  woidd  be  tedious  to  give  in  detail  any  thing  like 
a  faithful  narration  of  tlie  ect^tasies  with  which  from  this 
time  she  was  favoured  every  time  she  communicated. 
They  were  so  wonderful  and  «o  numerous,  that  we  are 
assured  she  made  a  vow  by  wliich  slie  obliged  herself 
never  to  move  from  the  spot  where  she  knelt ;  and  that 
she  did  this  in  order  to  control  the  impulse  which 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


170 


tu^d  her  to  cast  hcreelf  at  the  feet  of  her  Lord,  whom 
she  saw  in  so  g-lonoiis  a  shape  whenever  the  Sacred 
Host  was  elevated  before  her  eyes. 

Time  went  on,  and  Dominica  was  no  long;er  a  child. 
With  womanhood  came  tlie  cares  and  cliarge  of  tlie  en- 
tire family ;  for  lier  mother,  seeing*  her  grave,  dilig-ent, 
and  prudent,  left  every  thing-  in  her  hands,  and  ti-oiil)le{l 
herself  with  none  of  tlie  household  duties.  With  "nmur- 
muring*  obedience  Dominica  acc('j)ted  even'  thing"  that 
was  laid  on  her ;  she  swept  and  washed  the  house, 
cooked  the  food,  washed  the  clotlies,  looked  after  the 
gurden  and  the  horses,  and  saw  to  every  thing"  which 
was  sent  to  the  mai-ket.  Long  before  bretik  of  day  she 
had  to  be  up  to  load  tlie  mules,  and  give  them  in  clia'  go 
to  her  brother  Leonard.  When  they  came  home  late  in 
the  evening,  it  was  she,  tired  with  her  innumerable  la- 
hours,  who  had  to  take  them  to  the  stable  and  make  up 
their  stalls.  Not  a  moment  of  her  time  hut  was  filled 
up  with  hard  bodily  work  and  fatigue ;  yet,  thanks  to 
the  habits  of  her  childhood,  she  knew  how  to  infiise 
into  all  these  the  spirit  of  prayer ;  and  her  incessant 
occupations  never  put  a  stop  to  the  devotions  and  aus- 
terities which  she  uad  accustomed  herself  to  practise ; 
nay,  she  found  means  to  make  them  assist  her  in  her 
mortification.  She  contrived  two  crosses  of  wood  gar- 
nished with  sharp  nails,  which  she  constantly  woi-e  in 
Buch  a  way,  that  at  every  movement  of  the  body,  in 
washing,  sweeping,  and  working  in  the  garden,  the 
nails  pressed  into  the  flesh ;  and  so  constantly  reminded 
her  01  the  sufferings  of  her  Lord,  even  when  externally 
engaged  in  the  commonest  employments  of  her  peasant 
life. 

But  in  spite  of  the  way  in  which  she  strove  to  dr 
all  in  and  for  God,  she  secretly  sighed  after  the  retire- 
ment of  the  desert  or  the  cloihter,  and  for  space  and 
time  to  |)our  out  her  soul  in  tliat  fulness  of  conti^mplu- 
tion  an«l  love  which  swelled  like  a  deei)  ocean  within  it. 
When  she  was  fifteen,  she  accidentidly  heard  the  his- 
tory of  St.  Mary  Magdalen  for  the  first  time;  and  the 


180 


DOMIXICA  OF  PARADISO. 


account  of  her  retirement  and  long  penance  in  the  de- 
sert of  Marseilles  made  an  impression  on  her  mind 
whicli  was  never  effaced.  Slie  longed  to  imitate  her, 
and  to  find  some  secret  place  where  she  might  com- 
mence a  similar  life.  Believing  this  desire  to  be  the 
vocation  of  God,  she  accoi-dingly  detei-mined  on  the  ex- 
periment ;  and  secretly  leaving  her  mother's  house  one 
night,  she  went  on  foot  to  a  neighbouring  mountain, 
and  entered  a  thick  wood,  where  she  hoped  to  iind 
some  cavern  where  she  might  take  up  her  aoode.  Her 
fii-st  adventure  was  the  meeting  with  a  wolf ;  but  Domi- 
nica knelt  down  on  the  earth,  not  without  some  secret 
emotions  of  ten-or,  and  recommended  herselt  to  God ; 
atiter  which  she  rose,  and  commanded  the  animal  in 
God's  name  to  depart  without  hurting  her,  which  he 
did,  and  she  pursued  her  way  without  fui-ther  alaum. 
At  length,  rc*iur  the  Valle  del  Monte,  she  found  such  a 
spot  as  she  was  in  search  of.  There  was  a  gi'otto  sunk 
in  the  I'ocky  side  of  the  mountain,  and  aear  its  mouth 
ran  a  stream  of  crystal  water.  It  was  the  very  pipture 
of  a  hermitage ;  and  Dominica's  happiness  was  com- 

I)lete.  She  immediately  prepared  to  take  up  her  night's 
odging  in  her  grotto.  But  alas !  picturesque  ana  in 
viting  as  it  seemed,  it  was  very  small ;  so  small,  th:it 
when  the  fervent  little  devotee  had  crawled  into  it,  and 
knelt  down  to  give  vent  to  her  joy  and  thankfulness, 
she  found  it  impossible  to  get  her  whole  body  into  its 
shelter;  but  her  feet  remained  outside,  and  what  was 
worse,  dipping  into  the  cold  water  of  the  stream. 
Tliese  inconveniences,  however,  were  neither  cai*ed  for 
nor  even  noticed  by  Dominica.  She  was  alone  with 
God,  and  that  was  enough  for  her.  Three  days  and 
nights  she  spent  in  her  little  cavern,  absorbed  in  ecstatic 
contemplation,  and  without  food  of  any  kind ;  but  on 
the  third  day  a  voice  spoke  to  her,  and  roused  her  from 
her  long  trance  of  silent  happiness.  "  Dominica,"  it 
said,  "  rise  and  come  forth ;  I  have  already  forgiven  thee 
tliy  sins."  At  these  words  she  rose  and  left  her  cavern, 
and  behold  a  beautifid  sight  The  Valle  del  Monte  was 


DOMIMCA  OF  PARADISO. 


181 


before  her,  afc  she  had  seen  it  the  evening"  of  herai-nval; 
there  was  not  a  human  habitation  to  be  seen,  nothing* 
but  the  green  woods  which  clothed  the  mountain  side, 
and  tlie  clear  watei-s  of  the  little  stream,  and  the  rocky 
summits  of  the  hills  which  rose  al>ove  the  ti-ees.  But 
all  these  objects  were  now  lit  up  by  a  wonderful  lig-ht, 
brig^hter  than  that  of  the  sun  which  fell  on  them  from 
heaven.  It  gi-ew  every  moment  more  and  more  daz- 
zling", and  then  she  saw  in  the  -riiidst  the  foi-m  of  her 
Divine  Lord,  attended  by  his  Blessed  Mother  and  a 
vast  company  of  angels.  He  spoke  agpain,  "  Dominica, 
what  seekest  thou  here,  amid  these  rocks  and  woods  /" 
"  I  have  been  seeking"  Thee,  0  Loi-d,"  she  replied,  "  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  found  Thee."  "  But,"  re- 
turned her  Spouse,  "  when  I  chose  thee  for  my  divine 
espousal,  it  was  not  to  do  thine  own  will,  nor  to  enjoy 
aught  else  than  My  good  pleasure,  in  doing*  which  thou 
shalt  alone  find  peace.  I  have  not  called  thee  to  the 
quietude  of  the  desert,  but  that  thou  shouldst  help  me 
to  beai*  My  cross  in  the  gi-eat  city  yonder, — the  heavy 
cross  which  sinners  make  for  Me  by  their  sins.  Here- 
after shalt  thou  see  My  face  in  heaven,  and  contemplate 
Me  there  for  ever ;  but  for  the  present  moment,  retimi 
to  thy  mother's  house,  and  wait  for  the  manifestation 
of  My  will."'  "  I  go,"  said  Dominica ;  "  yet  I  know  not 
what  I  can  do  for  Thee  in  the  world ;  I  am  notliing-  but 
a  poor  peasant  girl,  who  have  been  brought  up  among" 
beasts  and  oxen.  Moreover,  if  I  ^  back,  my  mother 
will  cei-tainly  beat  me,  for  I  have  been  away  thr^^e 
days."  "  Feai"  nothing,"  was  the  answer ;  "  for  an 
angel  has  taken  thy  foi'm,  and  they  do  not  know  of 
tuine  absence." 

Then  Dominica  found  herself  ta-anspoi-ted,  she  knew 
not  how,  back  to  her  own  little  room  in  her  mother's 
house ;  and  whilst  she  still  wondered,  she  heai-d  her 
brother's  voice  calling  hastily  to  her  from  below  to 
come  and  help  unload  tlie  mules.  Dominica  obeyed ; 
but  she  was  not  a  little  confused,  when  on  coming  down 
he  began  to  ask  her  about  some  money  which  oe  had 


182 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


before.   She 


of: 


given  her  the  evening  Delore.  Stie  knew  ol  no  money, — 
for,  indeed,  it  had  been  given  not  to  her,  but  to  tho 
ang'el  in  her  likeness  ;  and  she  would  have  been  sorely 
[mzzled  how  to  satisfy  his  demands,  if  the  ang'el  had 
not  discovered  to  her  the  place  where  the  money  was 
placed.  And  so  her  absence  remained  a  secret  to  the 
family ;  nor  were  the  circumstances  ever  revealed, 
until  many  years  after,  when,  a  short  time  before  her 
death,  her  confessor  obliged  her  under  obedience  to  re- 
veal all  the  graces  with  which  God  had  favoured  her. 

At  length,  in  her  twentieth  year,  Dominica  resolved 
to  leave  the  world  alto^'ether  and  enter  reli^-ion.  Her 
wish  was  not  opposed  by  her  mother,  and  she  entered 
as  lay-sister  in  the  Augustinian  convent  at  Florence. 
The  sisters  received  her  very  warmly,  for  her  chai-acter 
for  holiness  and  her  discretion  and  industry  were  well 
known  to  them ;  and  they  immediately  employed  her, 
much  to  their  own  satisfaction,  in  the  gurden  and  kitchen; 
and  kept  her  so  constantly  and  laboriously  occujned,  that 

{)oor  Dominica  found  that  she  had  even  less  time  for 
ler  exercises  of  prayer  than  when  at  home.  She  en- 
deavoured to  make  up  for  the  loss  by  socretly  rising"  at 
nig'ht;  but  when  this  was  discovered,  the  Superior,  with 
a  mistaken  charity,  would  send  her  to  bed  ag-ain,  saying 
that  after  all  her  hard  day's  work  she  needed  i-est  j  not 
perceiving"  that  the  real  rest  she  required  was  time  for 
ner  soul  to  commune  with  God.  Dominica,  therefore, 
became  very  unhappy ;  and  one  day  as  she  was  digging 
in  the  garden  she  heard  a  mournful  voice  speak  plainly 
and  articulately  by  her  side,  saying,  "  Ah,  My  spouse ! 
why  hast  thou  left  Me  thus  'if"  And  it  seemed  to  her 
that  it  was  the  voice  of  her  Lord,  who  tenderly  expostu- 
lated with  her  for  suffering  the  intercourse  which  had 
so  closely  bound  them  together  to  be  broken  and  inter- 
rupted by  so  many  occupations.  She  threw  the  spade 
on  the  ground,  and  sitting  down,  covered  her  face  with  her 
Lands  and  wept  bitterly.  Was  it  never  to  end,  this  life  of 
many  cares  ?  It  seemed  as  though  her  soul,  which  was 
struggling  to  riso  into  the  serene  and  quiet  atmosplA:*^  zi 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


183 


contempladon,  was  ever  destined  to  be  kept  do^:vn  amid 
cares  and  laboui's  from  which  she  could  not  escape,  and 
wliicli  vet  seemed,  as  it  wei-e,  to  separate  her  liom  hei 
Lord.  So  long'  as  it  had  been  His  will,  she  had  never 
resisted  nor  complained;  but  novv  it  was  not  Ilis 
will.  He  had  said  so;  and  the  sweet  sorrowftU  tone 
pierced  her  very  heart,  as  she  dwelt  on  the  words,  and 
the  accent  in  which  they  were  uttered, — "  Ah !  why 
liast  thou  left  Me  thus  V  And  as  she  wept  and  prayed 
and  soiToweci  yet  saw  no  way  of  escape,  the  same  voice 
spoke  agtiin  ;  but  now  they  were  words  of  comfort  and 
encovano^ement :  "  Be  at  peace,  Dominica ;  God  will 
fbllj»v  ilis  own  will,  and  you  shall  be  comforted." 
Ard,  indeed,  a  short  time  after  she  was  attacked  by  a 
sickness,  which  compelled  the  sisters  to  send  her  back 
to  her  mother's  liouse ;  and  though  on  recovering  she 
retuiTied  to  them,  yet  she  was  again  taken  ill,  and  ag-ain 
forced  to  leave.  A  third  time  her  mother  took  her 
back  to  the  convent;  but  Dominica  knew  that  it 
was  not  God's  wish  that  she  should  receive  the  Au- 
gustinian  habit :  and  the  nuns  themselves  =eemed  to 
feel  that  this  was  the  case;  thouofh,  as  they  well  knew 
her  worth  and  sanctity,  it  cost  them  many  regrets  be- 
fore they  could  consent  to  her  finally  leaving  their  com- 
munity. She  returned  home,  therefore;  and  now,  with 
the  advice  of  her  confessor,  entered  on  a  life  of  strict 
religious  retirement  in  her  mother's  house,  until  the 
designs  of  God  regaitling  her  should  be  more  plainly 
manifested. 

The  manner  of  tliis  new  life  was  not  a  little  remark- 
able. Next  to  the  room  where  her  mother  slept  was  a 
little  rubbish-closet,  scarcely  large  enough  to  «tand  in ; 
this  she  cleared  fi-om  its  nibbish,  and  chose  for  her  cell. 
The  constant  sickness  and  infii-mities  which  she  suffered 
after  her  illnesses  at  the  convent  prevented  her  from 

{••oinir  out  at  night  and  conteniplnting  the  heavens,  as 
lad  been  her  custom  when  a  child.  But  she  retained 
her  old  love  for  them,  and  contrived  to  make  a  little 
heaveu  of  blue  paper  on  the  i-oof  of  her  closet^  and  to 


184 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


cover  it  with  gold  stars ;  which,  thougli  but  a  poor  sub- 
stitute for  an  Italian  sky — that  sea  of  deep  liquid  sap- 
phire, wherein  float  the  t»rig-ht  stars,  looking'  down  like 
the  eyes  of  the  seraphim, — yet  doubtless  had  its  chami 
to  the  simple  taste  of  its  desig^ier ;  and  at  any  rate  it 
reminded  her,  during  the  houre  of  her  prayer,  of  the 
beaut'Tul  days  of  her  childhood,  when  the  heavens 
opened  to  her  wondering"  eyes,  and  she  became  familiar 
with  its  inhabitants,  and  thought  to  get  nearer  to  them 
and  to  her  Lord  by  climbing  on  the  roof  of  the  house. 
I'hen  at  one  end  of  the  closet  was  a  small  altar,  and  on 
it  a  crib,  and  a  representation  of  Mary,  and  the  Divine 
Child  lying  on  the  straw, — ^much  after  the  fashion  of 
those  still  in  common  use  among  the  ueasants  of 
Italy ;  for  she  always  bore  a  special  devotion  to  the 
mystery  of  the  Infancy.  A  stool  before  the  altar,  a 
wooden  bench,  and  two  boxes,  completed  the  funiiture 
of  her  cell.  There  was  no  bed :  she  allowed  herself 
but  two  hours'  sleep;  and  this  refi*eshment,  such  as  it 
was,  was  taken  on  tne  l?oor,  with  her  head  leaning  on 
the  stool, — when  she  lay  down  in  this  way,  the  straight- 
ness  of  the  closet  preventing  her  from  taking  any  posi- 
tion that  was  not  painful  or  constrained. 

Y^  tl»s  sti'ange  prison,  which  she  never  left  save 
to  go  le  the  neighbouring  Church  of  tl:e  Lridgetines  to 
hear  Mass,  was  a  paradise  in  Dominica's  eyes;  fo  here, 
at  least,  she  was  left  at  peace  and  with  God.  She  kept 
a  continual  silence,  and  divided  her  time  between  prayer 
and  work  with  her  needle;  and  so  peifect  a  mistress 
was  she  in  all  kinds  of  embroidery,  that  she  obtained 
lai'ge  sums  of  money  by  her  labour.  Tli?5  she  left  in  her 
mother's  bands,  who  was  thus  well  satisfied  to  leave  her 
undisturbed  in  the  possession  of  her  little  closet,  whilst 
the  profits  of  her  aaily  labours  kept  the  house.  The 
austerity  she  practised  extended  to  every  kind  of  bodily 
denial.  Her  food  was  bread  and  water,  taken  so 
sparingly,  that  we  are  assured  she  sometimes  spent  a 
week  without  drinking  at  all :  when  she  ate  any  thing, 
it  was  on  her  knees,  as  she  bound  hei'self  ever  to  ac- 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


185 


company  the  necessaiy  refreshment  of  the  body  with 
interior  medication  on  the  Passion.  After  some  little 
time,  she  was  moved  tQ  give  the  proceeds  of  her  labour 
no  longer  to  her  mother,  but  to  distribute  them  in  alms 
to  the  poor;  and  feeling*  this  inspiration  to  be  the  will 
of  Goa,  she  immediately  executed  it,  gi-eatly  to  her 
mother's  dissatisfaction  and  her  own  discomfort;  for  all 
the  indul^^ence  and  tolemtion  she  had  received  at  her 
hands  so  lonff  as  the  profits  of  her  work  were  at  the 
disposal  of  the  family,  were  now  turned  into  sharp  re- 
proaches. Dominica,  however,  cai-ed  very  little  for  the 
sufferings  which  her  resolution  broug-ht  on  her;  for  God 
did  not  fail  to  evince  His  pleasure  in  many  ways. 

She  was  accustomed  to  wear  the  Bridgetine  habit, 
with  the  consent  of  the  nuns;  not  as  belono^ing*  to  their 
community,  but  because  it  was  deemed  advisable  that 
she  should  have  the  protection  and  sanction  of  some 
outward  religious  habit  in  her  present  mode  of  life.  As 
she  returned  one  moi'ninff  fi'om  church,  a  miserable 
beg-gar  met  her  and  asked  an  alms.  She  had  nothing 
to  give  him ;  yet,  rather  than  send  him  away  without 
any  relief,  she  took  the  veil  li'om  her  head,  and  giving 
it  to  him,  continued  her  way.  But  presently  she  felt  a 
great  scruple  at  what  she  nad  done ;  the  veil  was  pai-t 
of  her  religious  habit;  and  she  accused  hfei-self  of  a  great 
fault  in  appearing  in  the  public  roads  without  it,  so  as 
possibly  to  scandalise  the  passers  by,  and  be  taken  for 
one  wno  mocked  the  holy  garb  of^  religion.  But  as 
these  thoughts  passed  in  her  mind,  there  met  her  a 
man,  the  sm-passing  beauty  and  nobleness  ci'  whose 
CO  :nt€iiance  revealed  him  to  be  her  Lord.  He  carried 
in  his  hand  the  veil  she  had  just  given  away;  and 
throwing  it  over  her  head, — "  Henceforth,"  He  said, 
"  My  spouse,  shalt  thou  have  the  poverty  thou  desirest, 
and  shalt  live  for  ever  on  alms,  and  as  a  pilgiim  in  the 
world,  as  I  did."  From  this  time  sLe  redoubled  hei 
labours  in  order  to  obtain  lai'ge  means  for  the  purpose 
of  charity,  end  besides  this,  spent  much  of  her  time  in 
nursing  and  tending  the  sick,  as  well  as  relieving  th*mx 


186 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISn. 


by  her  alms ;  and  whenever  she  did  this,  her  own  sick- 
nesses and  puins  were  for  a  time  suspended,  and  slie 
found  herself  endowed  with  streng^th  sufficient  for  the 
most  extraordinary  fatigues  and  exertions. 

It  was  during"  her  residence  at  home,  in  her  twenty- 
fourth  year,  that  she  received  tlie  saci-ed  stigmata. 
These  were  not  bloody,  as  hi  so  many  cases ;  but  the 
exact  form  of  the  nails  appeared  in  the  ilesh  of  the 
hands  and  feet ;  the  head  pi-otrudinff  on  the  upper  part, 
and  the  point  coming  out  in  the  palms  and  soles.  The 
crown  of  thonis  was  not  visible  in  like  manner,  though 
the  pain  of  her  head  in  the  j)art  which  con-esponded  to 
its  position  was  excessive ;  but  very  often,  in  after  yeai-s, 
lier  spiritual  children  in  tlie  monastery  of  her  foundation 
saw,  as  she  prayed,  how  the  crown  api)eared  round  her 
liead  in  light,  and  bright  rays  came  out  from  it  and 
formed  its  points.  Dominica  strove  to  conceal  the  fa- 
vour she  had  received,  by  weaiing  long  sleeves  to  hide 
her  hands;  but  the  nails  were  so  large  and  distinct, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  the  fact  from  being 
known  and  observed  by  many.  After  a  while,  in  answer 
to  her  euiTiest  prayer,  this  ext*-  ordinary  foi-mation  of 
the  nails  in  the  flesh  disappeared,  and  the  scars  of  the 
woimds  alone  remained,  causing  her  excessive  ag'ony, 
which  redoubled  every  Friday  and  during  Passion-tide. 
At  length,  in  her  forty-fourth  year,  the  wounds  became 
invisible ;  but  the  pain  of  them  continued  dm-ing  her 
whole  life. 

She  remained  at  home  for  three  years  after  the  it- 
ception  of  the  saci-ed  stigmata.  They  were  years  of 
continual  suifering  and  persecution.  The  violence  and 
coarse  selfishness  of  her  mother's  nature  was  vented 
on  her  in  every  way  and  on  all  occaisions.  She  was 
made  the  object  of  the  most  bitter  reviling,  and  had 
to  listen  to  a  toirent  of  abuse,  and  what  was  worse, 
of  blasphemous  cui'sing,  whenever  she  appeared  in  her 
presence.  Once  her  mother  threw  her  so  violently 
against  the  wall  as  to  cause  her  to  i*upture  a  blood- 
vessel; yet  she  bore  all  meekly  and  uneomplainmg, 


DOMINICA  OP  PARADISO. 


18" 


rev 
of 


ler 


it- 


ted 


•so, 
ler 


until  at  length  some  fi-iends  who  lived  at  Florenc(!,  hav- 
ing" asked  her  to  take  up  her  abode  with  tliem,  it  was 
revealed  to  her  that  she  should  remove  tliither,  which 
she  aceording-ly  did.  The  chang-e  of  residence,  however, 
brouglit  her  little  or  no  relief  fi'om  pei*secution ;  for 
after  a  few  months,  the  women  w'th  whom  she  was  stay- 
ing, moved  by  some  jealousy,  or  disg'usted  at  the  retired 
manner  in  which  she  lived,  and  refused  to  gfo  about 
with  them  or  join  in  their  way  of  life,  accused  her  of 
every  crime  they  could  ima^ne,  and  even  attempted  to 
poison  her.  Her  mother,  hearing-  of  tlie  snffcring-s  to 
which  she  was  exposed,  was  moved  with  a  very  natural 
contrition  for  her  own  cmelty  to  her,  and  set  out  for 
Florence  to  see  her,  and  if  possible  remove  her  from  th  • 
house. 

Unable  to  obtain  admission,  she  had  recourse  to  ouo 
of  the  canons  of  the  city,  and  implored  liim  to  take  hnr 
daughter  under  his  protection,  and  defend  her  aguiust 
the  cmel  restraint  and  persecution  to  which  she  was  ex- 
posed in  her  present  residence.  By  his  inteifercnce  slie 
was  allowed  to  leave ;  and  a  charitable  g-ontleman  of 
Florence,  named  Giovanni,  to  whom  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  were  known,  received  her  into  his  own  home, 
where  she  lived  very  peaceably  for  some  time.  In  all 
these  most  painiul  and  disturbing*  changes  in  her  life, 
Dominica's  tranquillity  and  resignation  remained  un- 
moved. She  knew  that  the  will  of  God  had  its  own 
designs  i-egarding  her,  and  that  these  were  not  yet  ma- 
nifested ;  but  until  they  were,  she  was  content  with 
whatever  was  assigned  her,  and  received  ill  treatment, 
abandonment,  and  the  desolate  destiny  of  passing  from 
one  strange  home  to  another,  with  an  astonishing  calm- 
ness and  indifference.  Her  position  in  Giovanni's  house 
was  a  very  singiUar  one.  His  wife  was  a  weak  and  in- 
dolent woman,  and  with  little  religious  character  about 
her;  she  was  the  first  of  the  family,  however,  over 
whom  Dominica's  influence  was  felt.  In  a  short  time 
her  habits  of  vanity  and  self-indulgence  were  laid  aside; 
and  she  begtui  to  pray  night  and  morning,  and  to  atteud 


188 


DOMINICA  OF  PARADISO. 


Mass,  which  till  then  slie  had  neg-lected.  Then  one 
of"  the  sons,  wlio  was  to  all  outward  seeming''  given  up  to 
the  thouj^litless  dissipation  of  his  ag'e,  and  had  always 
nt'gflected  his  religious  duties,  was  won  over  by  her,  and 
beg'an  a  new  life.  (jJiovanui  himself  soon  saw  what  sort  of 
a  pei-son  he  had  brou;^-ht  into  his  house,  and  that  he  was 
in  fact  entei-taininj^  an  ang'el  unawares.  lie  tberefoi-e 
insisted  on  htr  taking;  the  entire  government  of  the 
family ;  and  Dominica  consented,  with  the  characteristic 
simplicity  which  would  have  made  Jier  undeiiake  the 
government  of  a  kingdom,  if  her  giiardian-angel  had 
assured  her  it  was  the  wish  of  God.  Whilst  she  ruled 
snd  directed  them,  however,  in  things  spiritual,  she  her- 
self did  the  servile  work  of  the  house,  and  waited  on 
them  in  the  hum])lest  and  most  submissive  manner. 
She  never  affected  any  other  position  than  that  of  a 
simple  peasant  girl ;  but  every  one  who  came  within 
her  influence  felt  its  power  over  them,  and  owned  her 
as  their  mistress  and  mother. 

It  was  whilst  living'  in  this  way  that  God  revealed 
to  her  that  she  was  no  longer  to  remain  concealed  and 
retired  from  the  world ;  but  that  He  was  about  to  make 
lier  the  spiritual  mother  of  many  daughters,  and  to  do 
great  things  for  His  own  glory  through  her  means. 
j\ow  Dominiv'ia  was  natumlly  of  a  very  timid  and  bashftd 
disposition ;  and  when  she  heard  of  being  brought  before 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  called  on  to  teach  and  guide 
othei-s,  she  knew  not  what  to  think.  Her  diffidence, 
and  wliat  we  should  call  shvness,  was  naturally  so  great, 
that  she  would  tui-n  pale  if  she  had  to  speak  to  any  one 
she  did  not  kaow  familiarly,  and  always  at  such  times 
suffered  fi-om  violent  beating-s  of  the  heart.  Therefore, 
when  she  considered  the  great  things  laid  before  her, 
she  felt  sad  and  a  little  frightened,  and  spoke  to  God 
with  her  usual  simi)le  fi-ankness,  saying,  "  0  my  Lord, 
liow  can  this  be  ?  I  am  nothing  but  a  vile  peasant ;  the 
heart  in  my  breast  is  a  poor  contemptible  tiling,  that 
lias  no  courage  in  it ;  my  blood  is  peasant's  blood ; 
I  ani  not  fit  for  these  great  things  unless  you  cliongc 


DOMINICA  OP  PAnADISO.  189 

it."    Then  God  answered,  snyini^,  "  And  T  will  change 
it,  and  will  g-ive  you  n  noblo  anil  mngmanimous  heart ; 
wherefore  prepare  for  keen  and  teiTible  suft'erin*^ ;  for  it 
is  by  them  tliatyour  heart  and  blood  is  to  be  purg^ed  and 
i-enovated,  and  ntted  for  My  service  in  the  eyes  of  men." 
Scarcely  had  the  vision  ended,  when  Dominica  felt 
tlie  approach  of  the  sufferings  whicli  had  been  promised; 
j)ain  in  every  part  of  her  body,  a  continual  hemorrhaffe 
of  blood,  whicti  seemed  to  drain  every  vein,  and  deadly 
fainting-s  and  weakness,  reduced  her  almost  to  extremity. 
Then,  after  she  had  lan^iushed  in  this  state  for  many 
weeks,  a  vision  appearea  to  lier  of  the  same  mysterious 
and  significant  kind  as  that  related  in  the  life  of  St. 
Catherine  of  Sienna.     Our  Lord  took  her  heart  from 
her  breast,  and  supplied  its  place  with  one  of  burning"  fire. 
She  rose  from  her  sick-bed,  and  felt  her  whole  nature 
renewed ;  every  sense  was  quickened,  and  the  powers 
of  her  mind  enlarg-ed  and  ennobled; — nay,  lier  very 
body  seemed  already  to  share  in  the  gflory  of  the  resur- 
rection.  It  ffave  out  a  wonderful  odour,  which  commu- 
nicated itself  to  every  thing*  which  it  touched.     Her 
sight  was  so  miraculously  keen  that  she  could  see  to  em- 
broider in   the  darkest  night,  and   many  nem  senses 
seemed  given  her;  whilst  those  of  smell  and  touch  and 
bearing  wore  also  renewed  in  an  equally  extraordinary 
dfii^iree.  But,  at  the  same  time,  slie  lost  the  bodily  vig^our 
which  had  before  enabled  her  to  go  through  so  many  hai-d 
davs'  labour :  and  with  her  new  heart  she  seemed  also 
to  have  acquired  a  new  and  delicate  bodily  tempera- 
mimt  which  utterly  incapacitated  her  for  work,  whilst 
she  seemed  to  be  wholly  immei-sed  in  divine  and  interior 
contemplation.     A  strange  eloquence  was  now  heard  to 
flow  from  her  lips,  the  infiiseii  wisdom  and  science  of 
the  saints  was  m  her  words ;   nay,  she  would  often 
niiote  and  explain  sentences  of  the  holy  Fathers,  or  of 
the  Scriptures,  which  it  is  cei-tain  she  had  never  read  or 
lieard  read.     In  short,  God  had  bestowed  on  her  the 
gift  which  He  deemed  necessary  to  fit  her  for  the  de- 
sign lie  had  i-egarding  her;   and  still,  with  till  the 


100 


DOMINICA  OF  PAKADISO. 


marvellous  H[)iritual  riches  which  she  had  '.xjquired,  she 
ivfainwl  in  her  ways  and  thoughts  and  habits  the  old 


simplicity  of  the  r>easant  child. 


first  of  the  spiritual  dauf»'hters  ffiven  her  by 
God  was  Giovanni's  eldest  child,  who  at  lier  j/crsuasion 
einbmced  the  life  of  r<.»ligion,  and  placed  herself  under 
lier  obedience.  The  second  soon  followed  her  exaiiiple; 
and  soon  after  a  third.  Another  daug-hter,  Catherine^ 
still  remained  ;  like  her  mother,  she  was  of  a  thoug'ht- 
less  and  indolent  chamcter,  much  given  to  the  vanities 
of  her  age,  and  the  foolish  pleasures  of  the  world  about 
Iier.  She  was  accustomed  to  ridicule  and  mock  at  the 
conversion  of  her  three  sisters,  and  to  hinder  and  disturb 
them  in  their  religious  pmctices;  in  short,  she  was 
al>out  as  hopeless  a  subject  for  Dominica  to  exorcise  her 
influence  uiion  as  might  well  be  imagined.  But  one 
Christmas-aay  Dominica  called  her  into  her  little  ora- 
tory, and  fii"st  turning-  to  the  crucifix,  and  spending'  a 
moment  in  silent  prayer,  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  bi-east, 
and  said,  "  0  hai-d  and  evil  heart,  be  softened  and 
yield  to  thy  God  ;  and  bend  to  my  will,  which  is,  that 
thou  be  the  heart  of  a  saint !"  I'hree  days  after  tliis 
Catherine  presented  herself  with  her  sisters,  and  implored 
Dominica  to  take  her  also  under  her  teaching*  and  direc- 
tion. It  cost  her  a  little  more  trouble  to  convert  the 
brothers ;  but  by  degrees  she  succeeded  in  pei'suadinpp 
all  to  devote  themselves  to  a  holy  and  religious  life ;  and 
the  eldest,  taking'  the  habit  of  St.  Dominic,  lived  and 
died  in  the  order  with  the  reputation  of  sanctity. 

Her  confessor  about  this  time  counselled  her  herself 
to  take  the  habit  of  the  third  order ;  and  the  matter 
having  been  agreed  upon,  he  provided  a  tunic  and 
mantle  of  the  usual  kind  for  her  clothmg,  and  appointed 
a  certain  day  for  her  to  come  to  the  Convent  of  St. 
Mark  and  receive  it  with  the  customary  ceromonies. 
The  cii'cumstances  which  followed  have  a  veiy  marvel- 
lous character,  yet  there  seems  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
accuracy  and  reality  of  what  is  narrated.  We  aro  t^ld 
that,  on  the  morning  of  the  dav  appointed,  she  being  in 


DOMINICA  OP  PAIIADISO. 


191 


ni-nyer,  was  rnpt  in  ecstasy;  nnd  in  this  state  she  saw 
Ht.  Catherine  and  St.  Dominic  enter  her  room  with 
the  white  tunic  in  their  linnds.  6t.  Dominic  himself 
gpave  it  to  her,  pronouncing  tlie  words  nnd  prayer  ac- 
cording to  the  rite  of  his  order, — the  i-esjwnses  Leinj^ 
Ijfiven  hy  St.  Catherine  and  the  ang-els;  and  her  giiainiian- 
nnpfol  fj^vo  the  as|)ersion  of  lioly  water,  first  to  the  hahit, 
and  tiien  to  her ;  and  St.  Catherine  received  lier  as  her 
diuig-hter,  and  g-ave  lier  the  kiss  of  welcome.  When 
she  recovered  from  her  ecstasy,  she  found  herself  really 
clothed  in  the  sncrc  .1  hahit  which  had  heen  thus  wonder- 
fully g-iven  her;  nnd,  full  of  joy,  she  ap|H>ared  with  it  in 
public  in  the  nfteinoon  of  the  same  day.  This  was  a  cause 
of  gfi-eat  dis,  lensure  to  the  authorities  of  the  oi-der,  who 
complained  that  she  had  assumed  their  habit  without 
lieing-  rejpdarly  admitted  into  their  society.  The  affair 
was  broug-ht  before  the  M.ister-  General,  at  that  time  V'io 
di  Ca jetan ;  and  the  com j)laint  ap]>earinfi;'  just,  he  called 
on  her  either  to  lay  it  aside,  or  to  explam  the  authority 
by  which  she  wore  it.  The  account  she  grave  of  the 
whole  matter  so  satisfied  the  Ai-chbishop  of  Florence  of 
her  sincerity  ind  holiness,  that  he  undertook  to  mediate 
in  her  behalf;  and  it  was  at  length  agneed  that  she 
should  keep  the  habit,  provided  that  she  nnd  her  com- 
panions wore  a  red  ci*oss  on  the  left  shoulder,  to  denote 
that  she  had  been  clothed  without  the  sanction  of  iJ  '^ 
ordinary  authorities  of  the  order,  and  was  not  subject 
to  its  jurisdiction ;  and,  in  fact,  they  did  so  wear  it  for 
six  years,  when,  the  Convent  of  the  Holy  Ci-oss  being- 
established,  they  were  aflerwai-ds  fiilly  aamitted  to  the 
rights  and  pHvileges  of  the  order. 

After  this  point  was  settled,  Dominica's  next  step 
was  to  retire  with  her  little  band  of  followers  (whicli 
now  included  several  others  besides  the  daugliters  of 
Giovanni)  to  a  small  house,  where  they  lived  a  regu- 
lar life,  supporting  themselves  by  the  labour  of  their 
liands.  In  time  their  gains  increased  to  so  wonderful  a 
degree,  that  they  found  themselves  enabled  to  purchase 
a  mure  convenient  residence^  and  then  to  enlarge  it. 


i 


102 


DOMINICA  OP  PAHADISO. 


k 


and  finnlly  to  rebuild  it  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  la 
short,  in  the  couree  of  u  few  years  slie  saw  herself 
ftt  the  head  of  a  hrffe  community,  possessed  of  a  regn- 
hir  and  extensive  house;  with  a  church  attached  to  it, 
without  any  other  means  having"  been  employed  in  its 
erection  than  the  money  which  she  and  her  sisters  had 
earned  by  their  own  needlework.  The  Archbishop  of  Flo- 
rence (tiie  celebrated  Julius  de  Medici,  aftei-wards  Popo) 
w.is  so  stmck  with  the  manifest  expression  of  CnuVs 
will  in  the  whole  matter,  that  he  obtained  permissicui 
from  Leo  X.  for  the  rejiiilar  foimdation  ot  the  con- 
vent under  the  rule  of  St.  Dominic.  They  were  all 
solemnly  clothed  on  the  18th  of  November,  1515,  and 
proceeded  to  the  election  of  tlieir  prioress.  Their  choice 
oFcoui*se  fell  on  Dominica,  but  she  absolutely  refused 
to  accept  the  office;  and  used  a  T)owca*  g^ven  her  by 
the  papal  brief  to  noininate  another  sister  in  her  place, 
whilst  she  determined  to  retain  for  herself  the  ranlc  and 
duties  of  a  lay-sister. 

The  ceremony  of  the  clothings  and  election  bein^ 
therefore  over,  she  made  a  solemn  renunciation  of  the 
house  and  all  it  contained  into  the  hands  of  the  Arch- 
bishop-Vicar. Then  she  left  the  sisters,  and  went  to 
the  kitchen ;  and  comings  there,  she  sent  all  the  other 
lay-sisters  away,  saying-,  it  belonged  to  iier  to  do  what 
had  to  be  done  for  the  community  for  the  first  week  of 
their  settlement.  She  cooked  the  dinner,  and  sent  it 
to  the  refectory ;  and  whilst  the  sisters  were  sitting  at 
table,  she  entered  the  room  with  a  number  of  broken 

fjieces  of  earthenware  tied  round  her  neckj  and  knelt 
lumbh'  in  the  middle  of  them  all,  as  one  domg  penance. 
Tiie  feeling's  of  her  children  at  this  sight  may  be  ima- 
gined ;  there  was  a  universal  stir ;  three  or  four  rose 
from  table,  and  would  have  placed  themselves  by  her 
side.  Hie  prioress  endeavoured  to  restore  order ;  but 
the  meal  was  broken  by  the  sobs  and  sighs  of  the 
whole  community.  When  dinner  was  over,  she  tried 
to  return  to  her  work  in  the  kitchen  ;  but  the  feel  ngs 
of  the  sisters  could  no  loiigwr  )>e  restrained;  they  tun 


DOMINICA  OV  PARADISO. 


193 


lun 


Bfter  her,  and  tlirew  themselves  at  her  fcot.  "  Mother, 
xnothei',"  thev  cried,  "  it  is  a  mother  we  want,  not  a 
saint ;  a  Cfuicle,  and  not  a  servant, — this  cannot  he  suf- 
fered." liut  Dommica  tried  to  quell  them,  and  to  jwr- 
suade  them  to  let  it  be  even  as  she  desired ;  her  entreaties, 
however,  were  in  vain.  They  left  her,  and  with  the  Pri- 
oress met  together  to  consider  what  should  l)e  done ;  and 
it  was  determined  that  the  Vicar  should  be  called  on  to 
use  his  authority  with  Dominica,  and  brin«»f  her  under 
obedience  to  take  the  office  of  Superior,— which,  in  shoit, 
she  was  compelled  to  do,  with  the  title  of  Vicare/sff ; 
for  she  persevered  in  refusing"  to  l)e  instituted  Prioress. 
When  the  time  came  for  the  profession  of  the  new 
community,  Dominica  obtained  permission  from  the 
Pope  to  defer  her  own  profession;  only  to  bind  herself 
by  a  simple  vow  to  wear  the  habit  of  the  third  order, 
and  keep  the  rule  of  St.  Dominic.  Does  the  reader 
wish  to  Know  the  motive  she  had  for  soliciting*  this  sin- 
gular privilege  ?  lie  must  go  back  some  twenty  years, 
and  recal  the  time  when  the  story  of  St.  Mary  Mag- 
dalen's retirement  to  the  deserts  of  Marseilles  had  sent 
the  little  peasant  child  into  the  woods,  to  spend  three 
happy  days  and  nights  in  a  hermit's  cave  too  small  to 
contain  her,  but  which  she  considered  as  a  Paradise ; 
and  where  she  would  liave  been  well  content  to  ha\0 
remained  all  her  life,  if  such  had  been  the  wish  of  God. 
At  thirty  yeai*s  of  jige,  Dominica  was  still  the  same. 
Her  simplicity  had  a  touch  of  what  one  might  call 
romance  about  it,  and  she  had  never  forgotten  her 
great  project  of  a  hermitn^^.  She  would  not  be  bound 
to  the  Convent  of  tho,  Iloly  Ci-oss  therefore,  because 
she  still  hoped  the  time  might  come  when  she  might 
find  out  the  desert  of  Marseilles,  and  realise  the  life  of 
l)enance  and  retirement,  the  account  of  which  had  made 
80  deep  an  impression  on  her  imagination.  When  she 
saw  lierself  threntcned  with  a  perpetual  appointment  as 
Vicaress,  she  accoidiniily  resolved  to  fly  at  once,  and 
did  actually  es('U|ie  by  one  of  the  windows,  and  set  out 
towards  Msuseilles  in  tlie  habit  of  a  pilgrim.   The  com- 


101 


DOMINICA  01   PARADI80. 


munity  agnin  had  recourse  to  the  Vicar,  who  sent  a 
]X!remptory  order  for  her  return  under  pain  of  exconi- 
municntion ;  and  the  messenger  who  carried  it  found 
her  laid  up  in  a  Httle  vilkge  with  a  swelling^  of  hoth 
feet,  which  Iiad  put  a  speedy  stop  t.'  her  pi^rimage, 
and  which  she  herself  acknowledged  to  I  j  the  declara- 
tion that  it  was  not  God's  will  she  should  proceed  iu 
her  design.  She  was  therefore  compelled  to  return 
and  retissume  the  government  of  her  convent,  in  which 
office  she  coiitlnueu  until  she  died  in  1553. 

With  the  circiunstances  which  attended  her  death 
wc  must  conclude.  For  months  she  had  lain  on  a 
misemble  p  illet,  unable  to  move  or  rise,  and  with  the 
n|>[)earanee  of  a  living  skeleton.  But  when  Easter  Day 
came,  she  felt  it  wais  tlie  last  she  should  spend  with 
her  Sisters,  and  determined  to  keep  the  festival  with 
them  all  in  community.  She  therefore  caused  herself 
to  be  cnrrred  to  the  chair,  where  she  communicated 
with  them.  She  took  her  dinner  in  the  refectory,  and 
afteiwards  held  a  chapter,  where,  after  briefly  and 
toucliingly  exhorting  them  to  fidelity  to  theur  Spouse, 
Rhe  gave  them  her  last  blessing.  Then,  in  order  to 
assure  them  in  the  peaceable  possession  of  their  convent, 
she  determined  to  nuike  her  solemn  profession,  which 
had  never  yet  been  done, — in  conformity,  we  are  assured, 
to  the  express  revealed  permission  of  G(m1.  She  lingered 
on  until  the  following  August,  and  on  the  dth  of  that 
month  fell  into  her  agony.  When  the  last  moment 
came,  she  raised  herself  on  the  pallet,  and  extended 
her  arms  in  the  form  of  the  cross.  Her  ioce  shone 
with  a  bright  and  ruddy  colour,  and  her  eyes  were 
dazzling  with  a  supernatural  light ;  and  so,  without  any 
other  oeath-struggle  than  a  gentle  sigh,  she  expired, 
at  the  age  of  ei^ty  years.  Her  hfe  nas  been  written 
at  length  by  F.  Ignatius  Nente;  but  the  principal 
facts  were  drawn  up  by  the  Abbess  of  Flerence  very 
shordy  after  her  decease,  at  the  instance  of  the  Grand 
Duchess  of  Lorraine,  nnd  foiwarded  to  Rome,  to  form 
the  process  for  her  beatification. 


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ANNE  DE  MONlMORENCr. 


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ANNE  DE  MONTMORENCY^ 

THE  SOLITARY  OF  THE  PYRENEES. 


About  the  year  "^^GQ,  a  young  lady  of  the  family  of 
MoDtmorency,  one  of  tlie  most  ancient  and  illustrious 
in  France,  disappeared  at  the  age  of  fifteen  from  her 
father's  house,  because  projects  were  being-  formed  for 
her  establishment,  and  she  believed  herself  called  to 
a  different  stat^  of  life.  Afler  having  in  vain  endea- 
voured to  alter  the  views  of  her  family  respecting  her, 
she  entreated  permission  one  day  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  Mount  Valerian,  near  Paris,  where  were  the  stations 
of  our  Lord's  Passion.  When  she  reached  that  which 
represents  our  Lord  on  the  cross,  she  imploi'ed  Him 
whom  she  had  chosen  for  her  spouse,  with  many  tears, 
to  save  her  from  the  danger  of  oeing  ever  unfaithfiil  to 
Him,  and  to  teach  her  how  to  live  from  thencefoi'th  as 
His  own  bnde,  unknown,  and  crucified  with  Him,  with 
lier  body  and  soul  given  up  entirely  to  His  charge,  and 
her  whole  being  abandoned  to  the  care  of  Providence. 

With  her  mind  full  of  these  holy  thoughts,  she 
camp  down  from  the  mountain,  and  without  well  know- 
ing what  she  was  goino-  to  do,  she  turned  her  steps  to- 
wards the  Bois  de  Boulogne ;  and  when  she  reached  the 
Abbey  '^f  Longcbamp,  feeling  a  streng  impulse  to  enter 
the  church,  she  dismissed  for  some  hours  the  confiden- 
tial attendants  by  wliom  she  was  accompanied,  saying 
that  she  had  still  many  prayers  to  recite ;  and  accora- 
ingly  they  left  her  without  su.'tpicion  to  finish  her  devo- 
tions.   Ko  sooner  were  they  out  of  sight  than  she  left 


ins 


ANNE  DE  MONTMOREXCr. 


tliG  chui  cli ;  nnd  committing"  liei-self  to  our  Bless-d 
Lord  nnd  His  holy  jMotlier,  piung-ed  into  tlie  i*ecessies 
of  the  wood.  She  was  following:  bv  mere  chance  an 
unfrequented  putli,  when  she  met  a  poor  woman,  wno 
asked  ahns  of  lier.  This  encounter  ap]>eared  to  her  nu 
indication  of  the  will  of  Heaven :  slie  foi-med  her  |)lnn 
in  an  instant,  and  beg-an  to  put  it  into  execution,  by 
taking-  the  clothes  of  the  poor  beg^gar,  and  giving  her 
own  in  exchano-e;  find  to  complete  the  disg-uise,  she 
stained  her  hands  ami  f:ice  with  clay,  and  ti-ied  to  dis- 
figure herself  as  nmch  as  possible.  She  then  turned  in 
the  direction  contrary  to  that  in  which  she  thought  pur- 
Buit  would  fii-st  be  made ;  walked  all  the  rest  of  tae 
day,  and  found  hei-self  in  the  evening  in  a  village  situate 
on  the  Seine,  some  leagues  from  Paris.  .There  she  was 
met  by  some  charitable  ecclesiastics,  who,  touched  by 
her  youth,  and  the  dangere  to  which  it  exposed  her, 
took  an  interest  in  her  situation,  and  found  her  fii-st  a 
temjwmry  asylum,  and  aftenvards  a  situation  with  a 
lady  in  the  neighbourhootl,  who  was  very  rich,  and 
whose  service  was  safe  and  respectable,  as  she  was  de- 
vout and  regular  in  her  conduct ;  but  she  was  a  diffi- 
cult person  to  live  with,  beinjj  of  a  sharp  and  worryinj^ 
temper,  so  that  she  had  never  been  able  to  keep  long 
either  a  man  or  maid-servant.  Into  this  house,  how- 
ever, Jane  Margaret,  by  which  name  only  she  was 
known,  entered  as  lady's-maid ;  but  as  no  servant  but 
hei-self  could  i-emain,  she  found  hei-self  at  the  j^ge  of 
sixteen  obliged  to  be  cook  nnd  housemaid  and  jwrteress 
all  at  once.  What  consoled  and  even  i*ejoiced  her  in 
this  situation  was  the  opportunity  it  af^oi*ded  her  of 
sntislying  her  thii*st  for  crosses  and  humiliations,  and 
also  her  freedom  from  all  intiaision  of  itlle  curiosity, 
so  that  she  felt  her  secret  safe.  She  endured  all  the 
fatigues  of  so  laborious  a  situation,  and  all  the  caprices 
nf  a  hai-shness  in  temper,  with  unaltci-able  patience  and 
sweetness  until  her  misti-ess's  death ;  that  is  to  say,  for 
the  space  of  ten  yeai-s.  And  so  faultless  was  her  con« 
duct  during*  all  thia  time,  that  her  misti-ess,  on  her  death 


ANNE  DE  MONTMORENCY. 


109 


bed,  publicly  beg-g-ed  her  pardon  for  all  slie  had  made 
her  suffer,  and  insisted  on  leaving  her  the  sum  of  four 
tho)isand  fmncs  in  addition  to  her  wages,  of  which  slie 
liad  as  yet  scarcely  received  any  thing.  Jane  Margaret 
was  with  difficulty  pei-suaded  to  accept  this  present, 
and  when  it  was  forced  upon  her,  she  distributed  it 
among  the  poor,  with  tlie  exception  of  a  very  small  sum 
which  she  kept  for  her  immediate  wants.  Feeling, 
however,  that  such  extraordinary  liberality  on  the  part 
of  a  mere  maid-servant  would  excite  susiHcion  and  en- 
danger her  secret,  she  resolved  to  escape  tlie  peril  as  soon 
as  possible. 

Accordingly,  on  her  return  from  the  funeral  of  her 
mistress,  seeing  the  boat  for  Auxerre,  she  threw  hei'self 
into  it,  without  a  moment's  delay ;  and  soon  after  her 
arrival  in  that  town  succeeded  in  finding  another  situa- 
tion which  she  considered  suitable.  It  was  in  the  house 
of  a  master  joiner,  who  was  greatly  esteemed  both  for 
skill  in  his  profession  and  for  general  probity,  and  who 
was  also  clever  in  carving. 

The  early  education  of  Jane  Margaret  made  her 
very  useful  to  her  new  master,  who,  in  return,  taught 
her  how  to  handle  the  chisel,  and  she  very  soon  became 
sufficiently  expert  to  make  wooden  clocks.  In  this  town, 
too,  she  was  happy  enough  to  find  a  director  experienced 
in  the  ways  of  God,  who  confirmed  her  in  the  resolution 
she  had  taken.  In  about  a  year's  time,  however,  she 
lost  him ;  and  despairing  of  nnding  another  to  whom 
she  could  give  her  entire  confidence,  she  determined  to 
i-etum  to  Paris,  in  the  hope  of  finding  there  a  guide 
such  as  she  required,  believing  herself  sufficiently  for- 
gotten at  tliis  distance  of  time  to  run  no  risk  of  being 
recognised.  She  set  foi-th,  therefore,  on  the  road  to 
the  capital  on  foot,  and  asking  alms ;  for  she  had  taken 
care  before  leaving  Auxerre  to  give  to  the  poor  all  that 
she  had  eaiiied. 

On  her  aiTival  in  Paris  she  placed  her?elf  among 
the  poor  wlio  ask  the  charity  of  the  faitliful  at  the 
chui'ch-doors ;  and  begged  every  moining  enough  to 


200 


ANNE  DB  MONTMORHNCT. 


maintain  her  for  the  day,  for  which  purpose  veiy  little 
sufficed.  All  the  rest  of  her  time  she  passed  in  praver 
in  the  churahes,  which  she  never  left  except  at  the 
approach  of  nigpht.  One  day  as  she  was  asking*  alms, 
accordino^  to  her  custom^  at  the  door  of  a  church,  it 
pleased  Providence  that  she  should  address  heraelf  to 
a  very  pious  and  charitable  lady,  who  kept  a  school  at 
"^hAveau-Fort,  and  who  was  under  the  direction  of  a 
i!i)ly  i-eli^ous  named  the  Father  de  Bray.  At  the  fii-st 
•Trht  of  the  young  and  modest  beggur,  the  virtuous 
.S!:i''Oolmistress  felt  moved,  and  disceniing  in  her  some- 
thu\^<  'vhich  did  not  acco:  ^  with  her  appai'ent  state  of 
life,  veiitui'ed  to  ask  her  w  hether  it  was  from  sickness 
that  she  was  reduced  to  that  condition.  Jane  Mai'snret 
only  replied  that  she  believed  herself  to  be  fulfilling 
the  will  of  God;  which  answer  increased  the  interest 
she  had  already  excited  in  the  mind  of  the  pious  lady, 
who  told  her  that  in  her  state  of  weakness  the  air  or 
the  country  would  do  her  good,  and  offered  to  take  her 
to  Chateau- Fort.  At  the  same  time  she  spoke  to  her 
of  Tether  de  Bray,  whose  name  and  merit  were  well 
kiiown  in  Paris.  This  last  consideration  was  sufficient 
to  deteimine  Jane  Margaret  to  follow  a  pei'sou  whose 
sentiments  were  so  congenial  with  her  own. 

As  soon  as  Father  ae  Bray  became  acquainted  with 
her,  he  discovered  in  her  one  of  those  wonders  which 
are  wrought  fix)m  time  to  time  by  gi-ace  for  the  con- 
fusion oftne  world,  and  set  himself  to  second  the  designs 
of  Heaven  concerning  this  privileged  soul.  She  too,  on 
her  side,  convinced  tnat  she  had  at  last  found  a  g^ide 
such  as  she  had  been  long  seeking,  bestowed  on  him 
her  confidence  without  reserve,  and  continued  to  0011*6- 
spond  with  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

In  process  of  time,  drawn  more  than  ever  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  she  left  ChAteau-Fort  to  go  and  seek  a 
solitude  hidden  from  all  men ;  but  it  was  almost  two 
yeai-s  before  she  could  find  what  she  desired.  She 
traversed  several  provinces  seeking  for  tm  asylum  out 
of  the  reach  of  every  human  eye,  imtil  at  last  she  ar- 


ANNE  DK  MONTMORKNCV. 


20' 


le 
a 
o 
e 


rived  ftt  the  Pyrenees,  where  she  estubHshed  herself  in 
a  wild  :-eoess,  which  she  names  in  her  lettere  "  the  soli- 
tude of  the  rocks."  It  was  a  little  space  of  a  pentaj^onal 
Hhape,  shut  in  by  five  rocks,  which  formed  a  kind  of 
cross,  and  rendered  the  little  spot  of  ground  which  thev 
enclosed  not  quite  inaccessible,  but  altojiether  invisible 
fi-om  without.  From  the  foot  of  the  hig-hest  of  these 
rocks  there  gushed  a  spring*  of  excellent  water,  and  its 
summit  was  a  kind  of  observatory,  from  whence  she 
could  espy  any  intrudei-s  who  mig-lit  venture  to  ai)- 
proach  her  abode.  There  were  three  gi'ottoes  at  the 
uase  of  the  rocks,  one  of  which  was  a  deep  and  winding 
cavern ;  this  she  made  her  cell,  anH  *,ho  two  others  her 
oratories.  This  solitude  was  at  leu  •  h  "  a  league  from 
any  road,  and  suiTOunded  by  a  t'uck  "est,  or  rather 
by  a  brake,  so  tang-led  that,  to  { ..;.  through  it,  the  tra- 
veller must  force  nis  way  an?  .  .,:  histles  and  briere, 
by  a  path  which  seemed  impraoticj  .le  to  any  but  wild 
beasts.  Our  solitary,  however  itiet  with  none  of  these, 
except  a  bear,  who  was  more  .  ..i\i  than  she,  and  ran 
away.  She  found  in  her  retreat  shrubs  which  bore  a 
fruit  much  like  damsons ;  and  the  rocks  were  covered 
with  medlai'-trees,  the  fi-uit  of  which  was  excellent.  The 
cold  was  not  intense  even  in  the  heait  of  winter,  while 
the  heat  of  summer  was  tempered  by  the  shade  of  the 
rocks,  and  of  the  woods  which  surrounded  it.  All  these 
details  are  given  in  the  lettei-s  of  the  solitary  herself  to 
her  director,  Father  de  Bray. 

In  this  retirement  she  hegan  to  lead  a  life  angelio 
rather  than  human ;  looking  upon  this  earth  as  the 
blessed  do  from  the  heio  hts  of  heaven,  and  consecrating 
every  pulsation  of  her  heart  to  God.  For  some  time 
she  used  to  go  twice  a  week  to  the  village  to  ask  alms ; 
but  by  degTees  she  weaned  herself  fi*om  the  use  of 
bread,  and  at  last  lived  entirely  on  the  vegetables  and 
wild  fruits  which  g'ew  in  the  neighbourhood  of  her 
abode. 

Her  spiritual  necessities  were  moi'e  difficult  to  sup- 
ply.   Not  wishing  to  risk  being  recognised,  she  was 


202 


ANNE  DE  MONTMORENCr. 


oblig^  to  use  many  precautions  whenever  she  allowed 
herself  the  consolation  of  participating  in  the  divine 
mysteries ;  but  Providence  had  prepared  for  her  a  re- 
source. At  a  little  distance  from  the  forest  were  t>vo 
religious  houses,  ona  of  men,  the  other  of  women. 
There  she  went  to  hear  Mass  and  receive  holy  com- 
munion; and,  in  order  to  escape  remark,  she  went  some- 
times to  the  church  of  the  convent,  sometimes  to  that 
of  the  monastery ;  and  for  her  confessor  she  selected  a 
good  curate  of  the  neiglibourhood,  who  simply  heard 
what  she  had  to  say,  and  asked  her  no  questions.  She 
had  fixed  for  herself  a  rule  of  life,  whicn  she  followed 
exactly :  at  five  in  the  morning  she  rose,  winter  and 
summer;  continued  in  prayer  till  six,  when  she  re- 
cited prime,  and  either  went  to  Mass  or  heard  it  in 
?>irit;  and  then  read  some  chapters  of  Holy  Scripture, 
heso  exercises  lasted  till  eight;  after  which  she  de- 
voted two  houi-8  to  manual  labour,  either  mending  her 
clothes,  or  practising  sculpture,  o*  cultivating  a  little 
garden  which  she  had  made  round  her  habitation.  At 
ten  she  recited  tierce,  sext,  and  none ;  and  then,  pros* 
trate  at  the  foot  of  her  crucifix,  she  examined  her  cou  • 
science,  and  imposed  on  herself  penances  in  propoi-tion 
to  the  number  and  grievousness  of  her  faults.  AH  this 
lasted  till  about  noon,  when  she  took  the  only  meal  of 
the  day,  and  afler  it  her  recreation,  which  consisted,  in 
fine  weather,  of  a  walk  to  the  summit  of  the  rocks, 
where  she  contemplated  the  cTeat..ess  of  God  in  His 
works,  and  praised  and  blessed  His  infinite  perfections 
in  pious  songs  which  she  knew  by  heait,  or  with  which 
Divine  love  inspii*ed  her  at  the  moment. 

On  her  return  home  she  made  her  spiritual  reading, 
usually  from  the  Imitation,  followed  by  an  affectionate 
prayer,  in  which  she  poured  out  before  God  all  the  ne- 
cessities of  her  soul;  but  asked  of  Him  nothing  but  the 
accomplishment  of  His  own  good  pleasure.  Tlien  she 
resumed  her  manual  laboiu*  until  four  in  the  afternoon, 
after  which  she  I'ecited  Vespei-s  and  the  enti-e  Rosary, 
accompanied  or  followed  by  pious  considerati  )ns.    This 


ANNS  Dfi  MONTMORENCY. 


203 


exercise  broug'ht  her  on  to  eif^ht  o'clock,  when  she  went 
through  the  devotion  of  the  Stations  in  a  Calvary  which 
she  hnd  built  heraelf,  and  performed  the  ]H>nance8  and 
mortifications  which  she  had  imiK)scd  u^ion  herself.  At 
nine  she  retired  to  her  cell,  and,  after  a  short  exami- 
nation of  conscience,  and  some  vocal  prayers,  slept  till 
eleven,  when  she  rose  to  recite  matins,  wliich  she  knew 
by  heart,  and  to  pray  till  two,  when  she  retired  agtiin 
to  rest  till  five.  In  order  to  regulate  this  distribution  of 
her  time,  she  had  made  herself  a  wooden  clock.  She 
made  also  several  other  pieces  of  workmansliip,  which 
were  admired  by  connoisstuirs,  more  especially  a  Cru- 
cifix, made  out  of  a  sing-le  piece  of  corneil  wood,  which 
slie  presented  to  Father  de  Bray,  and  which  afterwaitls 
fell  into  the  hands  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who 
valued  it  as  a  precious  i-elic.  She  wroug-ht  ako  thw»« 
other  crucifixes,  one  very  small,  which  she  wore  round 
her  neck;  another,  three  feet  big*!!,  wliich  she  placed  in 
her  cell;  and  a  third,  six  feet  high,  which  she  carved 
out  of  the  wood  of  a  fir-tree,  wliich  had  been  struck 
down  by  lightning  in  the  forest,  and  which  she  placed 
in  the  Calvaiy  she  hnd  arranged  on  the  summit  of  one 
of  the  highest  of  the  rocks  which  enclosed  hoi  habi- 
tation. 

For  her  communications  with  Father  de  Bray  she 
made  use  of  a  wagoner,  who,  from  time  to  time,  jour- 
neyed to  and  from  Paris,  and  who  faithfiilly  canied  her 
letters,  and  brought  back  to  her  the  answers  to  them, 
together  with  tne  small  sums  of  monev  which  her 
director  sent  her  from  time  to  time,  and  wfiich  she  used 
to  piocure  such  things  as  were  indispensably  necessary 
to  ner,  such  as  tools  for  her  carving,  needles,  threaa, 
woi-sted,  and  some  pieces  of  calico  and  stuff  to  repair 
her  garments,  which  were  veiy  simj)le,  but  always  neat, 
especinlly  wl;en  slie  appeared  at  church. 

It  may  not  bo  uninteresting  to  see  an  inventory  of 
lier  few  jM)ssessions,  which  she  sent  to  her  spiritual  di- 
rector. A  Hitman  Breviary,  which  she  recited  daily, 
and  which  she  undei-stood,  having  learnt  Latin  in  her 


204 


ANNE  DE  MONTMOnKNCY. 


cliildliood ;  nn  Iinitntion;  nn  uluidjimcnt  of  the  Snintu' 
I<ives;  n  litth;  book  cnllfid  Horlofr**  <lu  ()<i'ur,  iind  ono- 
therot*  Devotions  to  the  Illess»'d  Sacmmcnt.  Such  wiis 
lier  libniry.  Her  workshop  contained  n  snjiply  of  ordinary 
carpt'nters'  tools,  and  a  few  more  delicate  inipleinent^  for 
carvinjjf ;  wliilo  for  lier  i)ersonal  use  slie  had  a  few  hun- 
dreds ofj)in8,  some  needles,  some  grey  and  white  tlin-ad, 
a  pair  of  scissors,  and  a  copper  thimble;  two  IjowIh  and 
n  GUI),  all  in  wood;  a  hair  sliiit,  and  a  discipline.  Her 
wararo1)e,  as  may  bo  supposed,  was  of  the  mo^^t  simple 
description,  but  sutfici«!iit  for  decencv  and  neatness. 

Our  solitary  had  but  one  I'ear  in  this  |jeaceful  retire- 
ment, that  of  being;  discovered ;  and  it  was  lon}^  bcfoi-e 
her  evident  sanctity  drew  the  attention  of  the  i)eople  of 
the  villa<>:c,  and  excited  the  cmioisity  of  s<o  many  people, 
that,  in  spite  of  all  her  precautions,  they  succ(?i'(led,  by 
dint  of  constant  watching;,  in  findings  out,  if  not  abso- 
lutely her  abode,  at  least  the  rocks  which  suiTounded 
it.  This  was  quite  enougfli  to  force  her  to  seek  a  more 
distant  solitude. 

Implied,  as  she  said  in  one  of  her  letters,  ))y  an 
iiretiistible  force,  she  transported  herself  to  a  distancie 
of  twenty  leag"ues,  still  further  among*  tlie  Pyrene<»s,  iu 
the  direction  of  Spain.  She  had  dwelt  for  four  years 
in  the  solitude  of  the  rocks,  and  for  three  yeai-«  moi-e 
slie  abode  in  that  which  she  called  the  Grol  of  the 
Rivulets.  It  was  a  place  full  of  rocks  and  cave-ns,  the 
retwat  of  wild  beasts,  enormous  serj)ents,  and  monsti'ous 
lizards,  which  were  the  terror  of  the  neig^hb«)url»ood,  so 
that  none  dared  approach  the  s|>ot.  Hut  wh^n  this 
banner  of  rocks  was  once  passed,  which  requir^l  g"ood 
climbing",  there  was  a  little  smiling;  valley  enunicllcd 
witli  flowei-s,  and  intersected  with  rivulets  from  sevend 
springs  of  living-  water  g-ushing"  out  fi-om  the  mountains ; 
tliere,  too,  were  several  sorts  of  fruit  of  very  g;ood  taste, 
and  a  quantity  of  wild  honey,  which  the  solitary  pro- 
nounceil  to  be  excellent ;  so  that  idtog'ether  this  abo<lft 
would  have  been  preferabh?  to  her  fornier  one  of  the 
rucks,  if  it  had  nut  been  fur  the  pr«,':;ence  of  the  wild 


ANNE  DE  MONTMORENCY. 


205 


lieostn.  But  of  these  Jane  M»r^r(>t  luul  no  fenr,  do- 
liendinpi'  on  the  help  of  tlie  Lonl,  who  has  |)i-onii.s«Hl  to 
give  His  servants  the  power  of  ti-emlin^p  on  sor|ients  tind 
scorpionH,  and  of  chaining'  the  months  of  lions ;  and  in 
trutli  these  animals  never  disturbed  her,  though  she 
passed  their  dens  agnin  and  again ;  it  seemed  as  though 
they  res|)ecte<l  her  and  all  that  belonge<l  to  her,  for  tht-y 
never  nppi-oached  lier  dwelling,  and  even  s|mre<I  a  littlo 
squirrel  which  she  had  found  in  this  wilderaess,  and 
talcen  home  with  her  for  company. 

Here,  too,  as  in  the  neighl>ourhood  of  her  first  soli- 
tude, she  found  a  convent  of  monks ;  but  this  was  at  a 
more  considerable  distance,  for  she  had  three  leagues 
and  a  half  to  walk  before  she  coidd  reach  it,  and  that 
through  tangltKl  thickets ;  but  in  this  convent  she  sought 
a  confessor;  the  Su|)enor  received  her  witii  gi*eat  kind- 
ness, believing  her  to  be  a  poor  country  girl,  and  askint^ 
her  no  questions  but  such  as  wei-e  suitable  to  the  nu-al 
life  ho  supposed  her  to  be  leading.  For  the  holy  sacri- 
fice she  went  to  the  hermitage  of  St.  Antony,  a  league 
and  a  half  on  the  other  side  of  the  foi-est. 

Wlw'ii  once  fixed  in  this  new  abode,  our  solitary 
jieaceably  resumed  the  coui-so  of  her  accustomed  ex- 
ercises. She  airanged  for  hereelf  two  cells  in  the  hollow 
of  two  rocks  very  near  to  each  other,  and  in  the  space 
between  the  two  she  fonned  a  little  chapel,  which  she 
delighted  in  ndoraing  with  veixiure  and  wild  flowers. 
She  divided  her  time,  as  befoiv,  between  labour  and 
pi-ayer,  and  her  trances  and  ecstasies  liecame  more 
fi*equent  and  more  sublime  th:in  ever;  but  her  greiit 
humility  made  her  distnist  these  extraonlinary  favoui-s 
of  Heaven,  and  she  require<l  to  be  set  at  rest  conceniing 
them  by  her  director,  with  whom  she  continued  to  coire- 
Sjmnd,  and  to  whom  she  continued,  even  to  the  end,  to 
pom*  forth  all  the  secn^ts  of  her  soul  with  the  simplicity 
of  a  child.  Her  last  lett<'r  is  dated  the  17th  ot  Sept. 
1099.  and  in  it  she  expresses  a  great  desire  to  ffo  to 
Homo  ni  the  coui*se  of  the  following  year,  in  order  to 
gain  the  indulgence  of  the  jubilee,  but  at  the  same  time 


20C 


ANNE  DE  MONTMORENCY. 


submits  Iicr  own  Judgment  cntii'ely  to  that  of  him  whom 
she  regtirded  as  the  mterprcter  ot  tlie  will  of  Heavfln  in 
her  regnrd.  Receiving'  no  answer,  she  8us])ected  thav 
Father  de  Bray  was  no  more ;  and  in  fact  he  had  died 
that  very  year.  She  thouf^ht  hereelf  free  to  move,  and 
set  off  for  the  Holv  City,  since  which  period  it  has  been 
impossible  to  gatiier  any  trace  of  her.  Whether  she 
accomplished  her  pilgi'inmgfe,  whether  she  died  in  Rome 
or  in  some  solitude,  has  never  been  discovered ;  as  thoug*!! 
it  pleased  Providence  to  second,  even  after  her  death, 
the  earnest  desire  of  His  servant  to  be  hidden  from  the 
sig'ht  and  knowli>dge  of  men ;  for  tiie  tomb,  which  often 
becomes  the  ^)ory  of  the  friends  of  God,  only  set  the 
seal  to  her  obscurity.  A."  the  last  day,  when  the  secrets 
of  all  heai'ts  shall  be  made  known,  this  treasure  w.'ll 
stand  revealed  in  the  face  of  the  universe. 


f  him  whom 
f  Heavfln  in 
pected  tha« 
lie  had  died 
)  move,  and 
it  has  been 
'^hether  she 
ed  ill  Home 
;  as  thoug-h 
her  death, 
3n  fi-om  the 
vhich  often 
>nl)r  set  the 
the  secrets 
easure  w?U 


^ji» 


